


Limbo

by KifuSlick



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Actually a lot of fluff, Angst, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Friendship, Gen, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2020, Self-Destruction, self neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 61,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KifuSlick/pseuds/KifuSlick
Summary: Donatello just wanted to bring Kirby back. Instead, he ended up blowing up his lab along with everything in it and pulling a teleporting demon superhero into their realm. Now he's stuck with two interdimensional problems. Kurt makes the best of it. It's not the first time he was pulled into another dimension.
Comments: 17
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone that is not a part of both fandoms, one does not need know anything of X-Men to understand. This story is very turtle-heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included a sketch for a cover photo. I'll continue to work on this, ofc. EDIT: Sketch has been updated to a color blocked character layout. I don't think I'll update again until finished. ;)

Donatello leaned heavily on the lip of his desk, gravity straining against the confines of his carapace. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, the comforting crutch of caffeine no longer providing as useful of a service after its lengthy abuse. Logically, Donatello knew as well as all his brothers that pushing himself to this degree was counterintuitive to his goal. He couldn’t feasibly overwork his mind and body to this degree and still expect his project’s outcome to improve. Yet, even with Leonardo periodically riding his shell with his infamous lectures, Don continued his self-negligence.

The haunting blue-tinged glow from the idle computer screen lent merit to the running theory of Donatello’s downward spiral. It caused his already taunt and strained skin to appear a sickly off-green, lighter in complexion to his typical skin tone. The other lights situated around Don’s lab were extinguished, and the limp illumination from the monitor was not enough to see by in their absence. Subconsciously, even the run down genius turtle wanted to hang up his project for a spell.

Stubbornness outweighed common sense, as it often did with Donatello. Suckling futilely on his mug of coffee, he tried yet again to trouble shoot his latest project.

Donatello was not typically a practitioner of the mystic arts. Or any arts, for that matter. He was a being of logic and science with little room for true creativity, especially that of Michelangelo’s level. Don cast it aside for this particular undertaking. He’d once experienced a trip quite literally through an artist’s mind and he meant to pull his friend back into his own world.

His name was Kirby. Don found him to be extraordinary. Not only did he openly accept Don as a friend immediately, he was creative, smart, and curious. Rarely did Don connect with someone so wholly or so quickly as he did with Kirby.

Kirby was a creator of monsters. True monsters. Unintentional monsters. Whereas Kirby thought that he was expressing his creativity, he actually unintentionally birthed creatures into another dimension, to which he and Don ventured. Kirby stood his ground against threat as well as any of Donatello’s brothers. But he got trapped in the realm upon saving its peoples. Kirby conceded, said life was bittersweet. He practically gave Donatello permission to forget about him. But Don would not.

The original portal to this other realm was physical, conjured by Kirby’s imagination and practiced pencil. Kirby said that it was the only drawing since discovering his crystal, granting his abilities, that didn’t disappear after a few seconds. Don even witnessed monsters peel off the paper, solidify, and then dissolve into nothing. Of course, Donatello had to explore the portal and its existence, oblivious to the prospect of its disappearance. He didn’t regret satisfying his curiosity, but he did mourn that Kirby didn’t make it back through.

Kirby’s portal was nearly inexplicable by a scientific standpoint. But that was Donatello’s trade: build the impossible.

None of Donatello’s brothers knew about Kirby or the adventures Don shared with him. Even April accepted Kirby’s disappearance with exasperation. But no one, not even the typically astute Master Splinter, questioned that fateful day or its events. And Don didn’t care to explain. He’d bring Kirby back and suffer in his work alone.

“What can be so important for you to ignore your health?” Leonardo asked Don snidely one time. Don knew better than to argue. Leo couldn’t understand. Perhaps, if Donatello explained everything and helped Leo see why Don felt so responsible for getting Kirby back, he’d quit dropping such venomous comments. Don refrained. He could take Leo’s mothering if it spared him the explanation. The prospect of Don’s imminent failure if anyone else knew his mission would be even more soul crushing than Don simply knowing he failed Kirby.

“Yer gonna run yerself ragged, Donnie. An’ then Leo’s really gonna lay inta ya,” Raphael offer by way of advice. He was right, too. Donatello kept in training, but barely. Half the time since taking on this project, he thought his brothers were going easy on him because of his tired state. Which, of course, caused Leonardo’s frustrations with Donatello to rise. Not enough for Leo to reach his breaking point, as if Donatello was Raphael, but Don could sense that it was nearing.

“What are ya even doing?” Michelangelo asked in his infinite wisdom For Mikey to express concern, Don must really have been worrying the clan.

Problem was, there was always “one more thing” to get the miracle scientific portal to work. Don spent so much time theorizing and blue printing, and then even more time collecting parts, he’d figured that build time would be negligible in comparison. He should have known better than to expect such a thing. The trouble shooting was taking longer than all the previous steps combined, and where Donatello lost the most sleep.

Donatello was a self-taught engineer extraordinaire, mechanical whiz, and a decent programmer to boot. Quantum physic, which this project required, was a little steeper of a knowledge base than Don was used to. Of course, he offered himself a crash course to ensure that he was on track. That alone didn’t cross Donatello as an impressive feat.

Still, the portal wouldn’t fire up. Donatello considered all of the junkyard parts at his disposal, compensated for their unconventional uses, and it still didn’t start. A lackluster performance could be excused; its refuse to try could not. Donatello felt that no matter what he tried, that turned out to be the result: nothing.

Donatello didn’t know what else the project required of him. He’d lost count of the hours – the days, weeks, months – put into his rescue mission. Then again, a sense of time wasn’t exactly Donatello’s strong suit, either. He was vaguely aware of his clan quiet and asleep outside of his lab area, but he didn’t know the time. He didn’t know how long he’d leaned against his desk, staring blankly in the direction of his newest invention.

In his exhausted state, brain function happened to be at an all-time low. He couldn’t problem solve or run through the mechanisms in his head. He could hardly pass a coherent thought at all. He wasn’t dissociating, exactly, but his brain was switching off against his will.

Coffee. Donatello instinctually craved coffee to solve this deficiency. Yet even caffeine couldn’t impede this crash. Not only was Donatello’s mug empty, but even if it wasn’t, he could no longer feel its lent vigor. He knew, but craved the promise of its energy and focus anyway. In terms of addiction, even Donatello’s logic and practicality were rendered obsolete.

Pushing himself into an upright position turned out to be a chore. He didn’t have the mental potency to protest the weak and exhausted muscles. By all means, the turtle should not have been awake and functioning any longer, but passed out and recovering wherever his body dumped him. He didn’t need comfort and support to sleep, as far as he had pushed himself. Yet he still moved. Through some force of sheer will, Donatello stood and crossed the room to where his failed invention sat.

He felt frustrated. Angry, even. He put so much thought and work into this piece and nothing came to fruition. It sat inert with no intentions of fulfilling its purpose in getting Kirby back. It sat as a monument of Donatello’s continued failures.

The frustrations at lack of progress bubbled up in Donatello, consumed him in his emotionally weakened state. While he was a normal reserved and passive turtle, in this moment he subconsciously understood Raphael’s predisposition for violence. Donatello lashed out and kicked the inoperable pile of patched together garbage despite himself. The impact cascaded pain up his leg, so much different than if he were to kick a person or brother.

He moved to hold his foot and massage out the pain, pulling his leg up close and balancing on his other foot. But he stopped. His jaw dropped slightly agape. His eyes widened. The portal controls hummed. A Raphael solution to a Donatello problem, and it ended up working.

Adrenaline countered his sleepiness. By no means would Donatello consider himself an adrenaline junkie, but he welcomed the energy and clarity lent to him by excitement. The happiness, however, was short lived.

Of its own accord, the portal door began to glow, sans instructions. Don’s awe dropped to mild horror. The glowing, marking a dimensional crossover initiated, wasn’t to begin until controls were zeroed in and a connection approved. Donatello knew that he’d have a lot of work fiddling with dimensional energies, messing with wavelength and outputs, that he’d built a screen to test the portal gateway before actually opening it. An approximate simulation of the atomical arrangements as sensed by the portal’s energies. Somehow, by kicking the portal to life, Donatello bypassed those safety precautions and opened up a door. He hadn’t messed with fine tuning the interdimensional travel yet. Crossing energies like this would yield unpredictable results.

And explosive.

The pressure built in Donatello’s lab, either as a result of crossed energy patterns or the sound the portal gave off. It was crippling. Acutely painful. Before Don knew it, he was on his knees with his hands around his head. The throbbing pain in his foot was forgotten and overwhelmed. The noise coming from the portal graduated from a humming to a shrill whine before it finally exploded in a concussive blast. The pressure sent Donatello careening backwards, swept off his knees. His shell hit the legs of one of his tables, cracking them enough to tip the contents of the able on top of his crumpled form. He didn’t feel it yet, but he’d suffer the bruises when he woke again.

The portal gate briefly manifested in Donatello’s absence. It threw out a form in another thunderclap-like blast. The second form, human shaped but demon in appearance, was thrown haphazardly against the wall. It didn’t move once settled, its position twisted and uncomfortable.

Having spit out the demon, the gate collapsed in on itself in a violent fit. The blast left Donatello’s work in a twisted mess, unrecognizable from what he’d been working on. In the portal’s final flare, the screen to Donatello’s monitor flashed bright before blinking out, leaving the unconscious turtle and demon in complete darkness.

The rest of the lair didn’t fare any better. The entire power grid Don installed for the clan burned out in the portal’s collapse, plunging the space into near perfect blackness, save for the grace of Splinter’s flickering candlelight.

No turtle was left undisturbed from Donatello’s mishap. All three brothers jumped to attention and scurried out their doors to try and investigate the perceived attack.

“What the hell was that?” Raphael demanded. He stopped just outside his doorway. He wasn’t quite brave enough to misstep and send himself plunging to a premature death.

“Donatello,” Leonardo replied with absolute certainty.

Michelangelo flicked on a flashlight, lending the brothers illumination enough to see by. Leo nodded in his direction as thanks.

“He summonin’ the primal forces now er somethin’?” Raphael grumbled, all good natured spirit whisked out of him along with sleep. It took a lot to pull Raph out of a dead sleep, but a couple miniature earthquakes right underfoot certainly did the trick.

Leo flashed Raph a peeved glance, but didn’t reply. Instead, he motioned for Mikey to follow with the flashlight and took off in the direction of Don’s lab. His two brothers easily kept pace.

“No damage on the outside,” Leonardo commented at the door. “So he didn’t bring the ceiling down on himself.”

“Small miracles,” Raphael grunted. He sidled forward and tested the doorknob. No heat. No fire. Glancing backwards to gauge his brothers’ readiness, Raph steeled himself for anything. Michelangelo held the flashlight in a death grip, fearful anticipation clear on his face. Leonardo reached for the hilt of one katana before nodded an affirmative to proceed. Braced, Raph obliged. He turned the handle carefully, and then flung the door inward with significant force.

The room was dark. Mikey edged forward with his flashlight to illuminate the situation, careful to stay out of Leo’s way in case they needed immediate offense or defense. They were met with destruction.

“One hellofa party,” Raphael admonished. “Didn’t know Donnie knew how to let himself go like this.”

Michelangelo scanned the lab with the beam of his flashlight. It crossed the strewn debris from atop the broken tables. Lab equipment lay indiscernible from normal junk and clutter. Leonardo crossed the debris carefully, picking each footstep with care, to reach Donatello. His eyes continued scanning the room as he moved. The room was an utter mess, but nothing jumped out to him as immediately perilous.

“Raph, a little help,” Leo asked distractedly. He squatted next to Donatello’s form on the ground. His first reaction was to check for life signs, many thanks to Don’s insistent teachings throughout their topside life. He exhibited a strong and steady pulse, at the very least.

Raphael followed Leonardo’s cautiously chosen path through the clutter, reacting to his order silently and without question. He figured by Leo’s calm demeanor that nothing terrible had happened to their brother, but they all did worry for Donatello’s well-being. “Shouldn’t we, uh, make a path ‘er somethin’ through this?” Raphael asked halfway across the minefield of junk. Leonardo couldn’t expect to carry Donatello’s dead weight over everything strewn haphazardly across the lab floor. The tables had collapsed in the explosions, throwing their entire contents violently across the surface. Donatello had a habit of testing the strength of his tables by stacking them with far too much junk. To say that the lab was a mess would be a severe understatement.

“How, exactly?” Leo asked. He didn’t add any contempt to his voice, or even disguise it with impatience as he so often did. Instead, he truly fished for a feasible answer from Raphael. Even with the two of them equally carrying Donatello’s weight across the lab, trying to dodge everything strewn across the floor without dropping him would present a challenge. However, much of the wreckage wasn’t small or lightweight garbage. A lot of Donatello’s work included clunky mechanical bits with a decent amount of heft to their bulk. “I like the idea of making this easier, but I really think it’ll be better if we step carefully.”

Raphael shrugged, but did kick aside a few smaller items as he neared his two brothers. “Hey Mikey – a li’l light?” he called to the last brother.

Michelangelo hadn’t moved much from the entrance to Donatello’s lab. Raphael and Leonardo had the rescue mission covered; they didn’t need Michelangelo’s body getting in the way as well. Curiosity, however, did get the better of him as he waited, albeit uncharacteristically quietly.

Mike jumped at Raphael’s beckon. He hadn’t meant to let the flashlight beam wander along with his fatigued mind, but his intentions were left unfulfilled. “Guys,” Michelangelo called in a shrill, drawn out syllable.

“What is it, Mikey?” Leonardo asked with a little less patience. He worked on clearing the immediate clutter about Donatello’s slumped form to ensure nothing would fall on him as he was moved.

“Anything else kinda suspicious to you?” Mikey asked in a voice even higher than before. Acute nervousness drove away the remnants of sleep.

“What? Ya find Donnie’s playboy collection ‘er somethin’?” Raphael joked. He gently grabbed Donatello’s arm in preparation for lifting him away.

“Not funny, Raph,” Leo muttered with a roll of his eyes. He lightly pushed Donatello into a sitting position so that he and Raph could more easily lift him up and away.

“What if this explosion wasn’t Donnie? What if it was aliens?” Mike asked in utmost seriousness.

“Aliens?” Raphael barked. Leonardo elected to ignore their more dramatic brother. He levelled a stare at Raphael to coax him back to the grounded reality where Donatello needed out of the lab where they could better monitor his state.

“Yeah. Y’know, I think I found one.” Mike’s voice quieted through the last sentence until it ended in nearly a whimper.

“What did I say about reading comic books and watching horror movies, Mikey?” Leo scolded. “We could really use the light to get Donnie out of here. Raph, on three.” Leonardo quietly counted up and hoisted Donatello onto his and Raphael’s shoulders. Still, Michelangelo did not illuminate their path. He continued pointing the flashlight beam against the opposite wall. His stance had shifted to one of fight or flight, and his peripheral senses all turned off. Leonardo grumbled incoherently to himself before he again regarded his one and only alert brother. “Raph, can you pick out a path?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Raphael grunted. He gripped Donatello’s limp hand tighter, securing his arm across his shoulders. Staring at his feet and the dimly lit path before him, Raphael slowly led Leonardo across the lab. He made sure to be extra careful so that Leonardo always had a place to put both feet and so Donatello’s shins didn’t accidentally suffer any more than they already had in the mysterious blasts.

“N-no. I’m serious, guys. There’s an alien. Right here. It might be dead?”

“Mikey,” Leonardo stressed through gritted teeth, “quit messing around and shine the light over here.” As if to prove his point, he drove his toe through one of the heavier bits of indiscernible metal across Donatello’s lab floor, eliciting a strained curse. He stumbled minutely, but it was enough to throw Raphael off balance for a step. Both brothers paused to gather their wits about them. They exchanged an exasperated glance between them before settling their peeved expressions on Mike’s frozen form.

“I’m. Not. Messing. Around!” Michelangelo insisted. “Come here! Seriously! Like, why would I joke about this?”

“Oh, I dunno. ‘Cuz you can’t let anyone else have attention for a second?” Raph spat in response.

“Hey, that is not true an–”

“Stop your bickering,” Leonardo cut in. He spoke through his teeth. “Mikey, we’ll be there in a second. Especially if you shine the light over here. I can’t see the ground behind these two.”

“Leo, I really don’t think it’s a good idea to take my eyes off this,” Mike reasoned.

Raphael growled and turned back to Leonardo. “I’ll take him,” he said in reference to Donatello. “Get in a good smack for me, would ya?”

Leo squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and inhaled deeply. “Yeah, sure.” Raphael ducked lower to accept the remainder of Donatello’s weight on his back, aided by Leonardo’s careful handling. Free of the burden of their downed brother, Leonardo made his way around Raphael’s waiting body to Michelangelo. As soon as Leo was clear, Raphael picked his way forward. Donatello’s lab wasn’t big, but it held a lot of stuff.

Leonardo stiffened as soon as he reached Michelangelo’s position. He didn’t say a word or twitch a muscle. Curiosity piqued, Raphael made the last few steps over the junk until he was behind his two brothers. Looking between their shoulders, Raphael finally saw what Mike had been talking about. “Oh, well that’s great.”

“I don’t think it’s an alien,” Leo commented. The silence had been broken. He was back.

“What else could it be? Demon?” Mike insisted.

“Nah. That shit don’t exist.” Raphael shifted Donatello’s weight on his shell. “Well, one’a yas gotta grab it an’ get it outta here.”

Leonardo turned his head sharply to regard Raphael. He distinctly kept his body pointed at the mysterious newcomer. Leo was always ready. Alert. He also didn’t like taking orders or suggestions from Raphael, even if it was in the vein he was already thinking.

“I already have Donnie,” Raphael prompted further. “We’ve seen weirder anyway.”

“Why’s it here?” Michelangelo wondered. His eyes remained glued on the demon-like figure, widened with wonder. “Do you think it caused the earthquakes?”

“Makes as much sense as anything,” Raph said. He took a step backwards from his brothers before turning around. Donatello was of higher priority than the strange demon-like alien at the moment. Raphael wanted Don away from it.

Leo, spurred on from Raphael’s refusal to quit moving, jumped forward to tend to the mystery on Donatello’s lab floor. He squatted down beside the figure and checked its vitals. While he wasn’t sure if it even had vitals, initially, he was met with a steady human-like pulse. “I don’t think it’s an alien,” he repeated.

Michelangelo slithered closer, leaning forward in case the thing decided to wake up and jump them. Leonardo would be its first target, of course, considering how nearby he was putting himself to it, but Mike would be a close second. “So it is a demon?” Mike asked.

“It’s not exactly like the demons we’ve encountered before,” Leo reasoned.

“That one Halloween? Were those actually demons, though?” Mike felt Raphael’s lack of presence acutely. While Michelangelo was fully aware that he was capable of taking care of himself against a single opponent, including strange and hulking aliens, he didn’t enjoy real tastes of horror in his life. Scary tropes were best left to movies, not real life.

“Whoa. This thing doesn’t have pupils,” Leonardo said. He pulled his fingers away from the creature’s face like it had bitten him.

“What were you even doing?” Mike cried. He felt frozen. Petrified.

“I don’t know! It’s just a thing you do, right? Check the pupils? Look, this is Donnie’s thing.”

“Do you think Raph was right? That we should … move it?” Michelangelo unconsciously gripped the flashlight shaft harder, twisting it in the palms of his hands.

Leo sneered briefly before tucking the expression away. “I guess. Besides the obvious differences, it almost looks more human than us. It’s probably sentient and until we know what happened here, we should treat it like a guest.” The demon creature was humanoid. It was covered in blue fur, had the same amount of fingers as the turtles, and sported a forked tail, but that’s where the differences really stopped. It wore clothing, skin tight as it was. It had a mop of hair upon its head, among other human pieces where human pieces belonged. It had a rib cage and four limbs arranged in arm and leg formation. Its musculature was exactly like a human. And, in that regard, a human would consider it a male. Perhaps not a man with its outward appearance, but masculine.

Leonardo bent forward to gather him in his arms in a bridal carry. He didn’t weigh anything more than one of the turtles. His tail drooped to the floor from Leo’s height, but it escaped his notice. A fifth appendage had never been on his radar before. Holding him close, Leo stood up and turned around. Nodding once toward the door, Leonardo beckoned Michelangelo’s lead to the main lair.

Raphael met them in the living area of the lair. He walked up with arms crossed and chin held high, though he didn’t exude his typically unapproachable air. “Master Splinter said Donnie’s gonna be fine.”

“He’s been awake?” Leo sputtered. His step faltered right before he reached the couch.

“Yeah. Said since he didn’t hear no screamin’ or anythin’, he figured we were fine.” Raph shrugged dramatically. “He’s with Donnie now.”

“Does he know about the … alien?” Mike asked. He crept up beside Leo, hunched over to make himself small. His head moved slowly to look at the figure in Leo’s arms, but then he quickly averted his eyes again.

“Nah, I didn’t tell him.”

“It’s not an alien!” Leonardo repeated with a little exasperation. He stepped forward to gently deposit the creature onto the couch. The three brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down at its inanimate form.

“Uh, now what?” Mike asked.

“I dunno ‘bout you, but I’m not so tired anymore,” Raphael said.

“I sense … what I was told is not all.” A voice came from the black void beyond the couch. Michelangelo visibly jumped. Raphael dropped his tough guy façade. And Leonardo merely rose his eyes to meet his father’s.

“Sensei –” Leonardo began.

“Master Splinter! An alien caused the explosion!” Michelangelo spoke over his brother to exclaim.

Splinter’s eyebrow perked. He continued forward until his free hand could rest on the back of the couch. He studied his alert sons for a moment before he looked downward to Michelangelo’s alien. “Somehow, I do not feel as if that is the correct conclusion,” Splinter mused.

Michelangelo was left sputtering.

“Sensei, we did find something – someone – in Don’s lab,” Leonardo explained. “It – he’s – alive. But that’s all we know.”

Splinter didn’t look up from the figure on the couch to regard Leo’s words. His expression remained unreadable. Raphael shifted uncomfortably next to Leo. “Master Splinter, what if it did cause the thing in Donnie’s lab? What if it’s dangerous?”

“Has that ever stopped you before?” Splinter asked. He lifted his eyes to Raphael. They shone kindly in the light of Michelangelo’s flashlight. “Fetch our surprise guest a blanket and a glass of water should he wake. We can deal with this all when we’re better rested.”

“You just wanna leave it on the couch?” Raph asked. He was too shocked to be angry about it.

“I’ll watch over him,” Leonardo offered before Splinter could say anything else. “If the lair explodes or anything, I might need you to come running.”

“Okay. So an alien wakes us up by blowing up Don’s lab. We just put the two of them to sleep and pretend nothing happened? Guys, this reads like a bad horror movie. You don’t ignore big signs like an alien blowing up your house.”

“He’s not an alien!” Leo argued. “Mikey, just go to bed. I’ll be fine.”

Raphael elbowed Mike in the arm. “What if ya got it backwards, bro? What if Don blew up his lab and made a creature with his science? Maybe he’s goin’ mad. Maybe Donnie’s the one ya gotta look out for in the night.”

“I think it’s best if we don’t theorize and wait for Donatello and this … guest to wake to tell us their stories,” Splinter added with a little impatience. “Leonardo, you will fetch him a blanket and water. Michelangelo, please keep the noise down. Healing requires tranquility.” Splinter said nothing else by way of goodbye, but took his walking stick and disappeared beyond the reaches of Mike’s flashlight.

Mike turned to Raphael with wide eyes. “You’re jokin’, right? Don hasn’t gone crazy scientist, right?”

Leonardo groaned, less inwardly than audibly. “Don hasn’t gone crazy, Mike. I think Splinter had a good idea. You should go to bed.” He fell away from his brothers and positioned himself closer to their rooms. “Raph?”

Raph looked between Mike and Leo for a moment, confused as to why he was suddenly singled out. “Yeah?”

“You’re good with this? Considering most everything was out of our control.”

He shrugged, and then plastered on his tough guy appearance. His shoulders squared a little straighter and his stance solidified. “Whatever, Leo.” Without another word, Raphael followed Leonardo in the direction of the bedrooms. Whereas Leo was grabbing their guest a blanket, Raphael fully intended on resuming his sleep.

Michelangelo faltered. “Hey guys? Where’d you go?” he called. He shone his flashlight as far as it would reach. He had blanked out, lost in thought, not realizing his brothers were leaving him alone with the alien. The beam of light fell on emptiness. “Guys!” Every horror movie Mike had ever watched swam up to the surface of his psych, warning him of the dangers of the exact type of situation he found himself in. Nothing ever ended up being okay for the one left behind. Nothing good was to come of this.

He swallowed his scream, but made no effort to control his sprint as he put as much distance between him and the unconscious figure on the couch. His bedroom would be safe, even though the power had been knocked out of it. Bedrooms, especially under the covers, were always safe from monsters.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, you’re awake.” Leonardo leaned forward in his sitting position. He scooted the chair nearer to the couch and fetched a candle to sit on the table for the slight illumination to see by. Leo still couldn’t read in the dim lighting, but he enjoyed the sitting cat nap he was able to achieve while the rest of the lair slept on.

The creature Leonardo brought out of Donatello’s lab stirred. He opened his eyes and froze, but jumped when Leo spoke.

“How are you feeling?” Leo asked in what he hoped was a soothing tone.

“Like I’ve been ripped to pieces and put back together,” the creature responded. His voice was scratchy and groggy, sporting an accent that Leonardo had never heard before. The words he spoke were English, though.

The creature groaned and shifted on the couch so that he faced Leo. His eyes briefly widened in surprise when he saw him. “Am I – am I in the Morlock tunnels?”

“The what?” Leo asked.

“I guess not.” He sniffed lightly. “Underground, though.”

“Yes.” Leo shifted uncomfortably. “My name’s Leonardo. We found you after what sounded like an explosion coming from my brother’s lab. Do you know what happened?”

The creature tried to move into a sitting position, groaned, and then settled back on his side. He squeezed his eyes shut with a faintly discomforted expression as he recalled the events leading up to the explosion. “I … no. My team was ambushed after a mission. I teleported and – nothing.”

“You teleported?” Leonardo repeated with a rise to his voice.

“Yeah. I’m a mutant, uh, obviously. I teleport short distances. I don’t think this was a normal ‘port, yah?” He smiled for a moment, flashing fanged teeth, before adopting a more neutral expression again. “You said your name is Leonardo? I’m Nightcrawler. Kurt.”

Leonardo made conscious effort to shut his jaw and banish his incredulous look. He was no alien. He was a mutant. Much like Leo and his brothers. Mikey would be beside himself if he knew that this mutant also got a super power with his looks. Leonardo even found himself wondering if Kurt was a superhero, with a code name like Nightcrawler. Or a super villain.

“A mission, then,” Leonardo prompted hesitantly.

Kurt smirked and nodded his chin forward. “I’m a good guy, Leonardo. Even if the media paints us as bad guys.”

Leonardo was more confused with that explanation than before. “The media? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Not much of a TV watcher?”

“It’s on almost all the time,” Leo said to the contrary.

Kurt twitched a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m part of the X-Men group.”

“Never heard of you.”

“Really?” He tried again to sit up, grunting as he did so. “Well, I led a couple teammates on a counterassault to retrieve some mutant children from the Friends of Humanity.” He looked down at his hands. “They would have been executed by their hands if we hadn’t interfered. The mission went south. We destroyed property. Possibly a couple lives. I … I don’t know. We got the children out, scared and hurt, but out. And then the sentinel, the really advanced one, came. I teleported and the next thing I know, I end up here.”

Leonardo was once again struck into silence.

Kurt reached up to touch the back of his head. “I’m making sense when I speak, yah?”

Leonardo threw him a confused glance. “Yeah.”

“I must have hit my head. The room is spinning a little.”

“I brought you a glass of water,” Leonardo offered helplessly.

“Vielen Dank,” Kurt replied. “I appreciate your kindness.”

“So. It speaks,” Raphael said from behind Kurt. Leonardo lifted his head to acknowledge his brother. Kurt nearly fell from the couch.

“You – you said brothers. I apologize. You startled me,” he rambled. He turned his body to accommodate for both presences.

“Comes with the territory,” Raphael said. He had his arms crossed firmly over his carapace. He wanted to intimidate. Leonardo knew the stance.

Kurt smiled crookedly, flashing his fangs again. Not the usual response to Raph’s feral presence. Raphael barely held back an irritated sneer. “My name is Kurt,” he offered cheerfully. When Raph didn’t respond, Kurt looked between the two of them. “Turtle mutants?”

“Uh, yeah,” Leo answered.

Raph grunted. “Mike’s up, he jus’ told me that he is too afraid to leave the room to see if you’re still alive,” he informed Leo. “Said he couldn’t sleep ‘cuz the alien might get him while he’s sleepin’. Some other stuff ‘bout how even his blanket wasn’t safe.”

Leo remained quiet for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he was really surprised by the information or not. “I’ll go check on him. Anything from Don yet? I don’t think we’re getting power back until he’s awake.”

Raph shook his head. “He’ll probably be out ‘till tonight at least. You know how long he was awake. An’ that’s not considerin’ what he went through.”

“You know, I could take a look at your power,” Kurt offered. “You’re off-grid?”

“Not exactly,” Leo replied. “Tapped into the grid secretly.”

Kurt looked impressed. “An almost closed system with one parallel into the main grid should be easy enough to figure out. I just need to get my bearings first.” He rubbed his neck with a wince.

“Great, another brainiac,” Raphael mumbled.

“Oh, no. But I can see that the electric system is pretty bare bones,” Kurt said. He gestured into the blackness beyond the light of the candle.

“You can now,” Raph deadpanned.

“I … can see this whole space,” Kurt explained. “The impressive TV set up, of course. The practice area with the heavy bag. I’m called Nightcrawler for a reason. It’s how I work best.”

“Ya sound like an idiot with a code name,” Raph said. He pulled no punch. The territory of pseudonyms reached into Michelangelo’s line of interests, and Raphael never gave his brother a break on the subject. 

Leonardo stood, pushing the chair backwards to better get his feet under him. “Try not to pester our guest too much,” he said with a strained voice as he walked by Raphael.

Raph struck out in a lazy backhanded slap in Leo’s direction, but missed. “I’m gonna get somethin’ ta eat.” He studied Kurt for a moment. “You hungry?”

“No, not at the moment. I’m a little too queasy from the ‘port. Thank-you.”

Leo was quick to reach Michelangelo’s doorway. He knocked lightly on the edge of the bricks. “Mikey?”

“Oh Leo, you’re alive,” Mike answered from the black area within.

“Are you okay in there? Raph said you thought the alien killed me overnight.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His feet whispered against the floor and he shuffled closer. Leo couldn’t see him, but he could sense his presence nearby. “I didn’t think it ate you. That’d be stupid.”

“Uh-huh.” Leo couldn’t help but smile at Mike’s wildly creative innocence. “You should go down and talk to him. I think you’d like him.”

“He’s not an alien, then?”

“He’s a mutant.”

“Not a mutant like us or Leatherhead, though.” Michelangelo stepped further out through his door until it sounded like he was near the edge of the walk leading from room to room. “Did he cause the explosion?”

“He doesn’t even remember the explosion.”

Mike was quiet for a moment. “Does that mean Donnie’s going mad scientist on us?” he whispered urgently.

Leo couldn’t help but settle his forehead against the palm of his hand. “No, I don’t think Donnie’s going mad. We’ll figure it out when he wakes up. But Donnie just pulled … how many days in a row? We need to let him sleep.”

“How come when Donnie stays up for three days it’s for science – but when Mikey does it, it’s because I’m childish?” Michelangelo argued petulantly.

“Because maybe, just maybe, a part of Donnie is insane and we all know that. And you’re just childish,” Leonardo explained. He smiled, feeling quite impish for the comeback.

“That’s not even a good reason!” Mike whined. “I’m gonna introduce myself to this mutant, and he’s not gonna think I’m childish.”

“Okay, good luck with that,” Leonardo said. “I’m actually going to take a nap. That beach chair isn’t exactly the most comfortable.”

Michelangelo couldn’t see the floor to the main level of the lair, but he had made the jump enough times in his life to know where it was. He stepped off the stone walk that comprised the second level and executed a practiced somersault into a comfortable stride toward the living area of their lair.

“Well done,” the stranger commented to Michelangelo as he neared.

Mike couldn’t help himself. He grinned. “Thank-you,” he said comically. He paused to turn around and look behind him. “Wait, how … you didn’t see that.”

“I did, actually.” He tapped the corners of his eyes with a finger on each hand. “I have excellent night vision. I’m Kurt.”

“Mikey.” He promptly took a seat on the arm rest further away from Kurt’s head. “I totally thought you were an alien that dropped into Donnie’s lab. Like, the explosion was the force of your teleporting beam or whatever, ya know? But I guess something else happened and Don kind of just burnt himself out in one big bang and you showed up somehow.”

Kurt blinked as he processed the information dump. “I did teleport,” he said with careful deliberateness. “But I don’t think it was my teleport that brought me here. An advanced robot called Nimrod probably had a little more to do with the misdirection of my ‘port. But that shouldn’t explain this explosion. An explosion would, however, explain my aching head.”

Mike snorted. “A robot called Nimrod,” he snickered.

“That robot causes way too many issues with my teleporting,” Kurt grumbled. He brushed off Mikey’s immature response. If Kurt hadn’t had so many painful run-ins with the sentinel, he too would snicker at its name.

“Your teleporting – is it some kind of super power?” Michelangelo asked.

“I … yes. I guess it is a super power,” Kurt said with a little hesitation. He’d never really considered himself super, exactly.

Michelangelo’s eyes widened and he leaned forward. “Can you show me?”

“Not right now. I need my brain to heal a little. I need to concentrate to teleport, and I can’t really do that at the moment.” In fact, Kurt felt very off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, as he was sure he had a mild concussion causing him issues, but he was sure that it wasn’t only that he hit his head.

Mike visibly deflated. “That’s still really cool. Does that mean you’re some sort of super hero? Are you a part of a team?” Even though he was temporarily put off by Kurt’s current shortcomings, it certainly didn’t put him off for long. About five seconds.

“I sort of am a super hero, yes. And yes, a part of the team. Maybe you’ve heard of us? The X-Men?”

Mike thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Nope, never heard of ya.” He tilted his head to the side. “You sure that’s the name of your team? I pretty much know everyone. Maybe you just do local small stuff?”

“No, definitely not just local small stuff. We’re more notorious than celebrated on any Earthly scale.”

“Nope, still never heard of you.”

Kurt squinted and stared down at his knees.

“Neat costume, though. I tried to be a super hero once. Kinda didn’t work out great, but I made a new friend. I’m more of a stick to the shadows kinda guy.”

Kurt shook his head lightly, as if striking a thought from his mind. “Yeah, I am, too. A shadows kind of guy.” His tone was less conversational as he tried to pull himself from his thoughts.

Michelangelo smiled, oblivious to Kurt’s stupefied mood. “I think you’ll fit in just nicely around here, my friend.”

Kurt smiled, though it didn’t have the same emotion as before. “I appreciate that. Where is here, exactly?” Kurt’s base wasn’t registering to either Leonardo or Mikey. They spoke American English, though, and seemed to be hiding from the main populace like any mutant would around Kurt. Something just didn’t seem to be adding up to him.

“New York City, my dude. The, uh, sewers to be exact.”

Kurt scrunched his brow and dropped his lip as he thought. “A-and do the Morlocks mean anything to you?” he asked gently. He wasn’t concerned about the location so much as his lack of information.

“Nope.”

Kurt leaned forward and held his head between the palms of his hands. He felt more and more panicked as his brain simply failed to grasp something – but what?

“You okay?” Michelangelo asked with concern. Donatello was still out, and Leonardo said that he was going to take a nap, but Mike could still grab Splinter for help. His remedy would probably be tea, but it wasn’t that Mike really knew how to make a calming tea for a concussion like Splinter always seemed to know how to do.

“N-no I feel awful,” Kurt said in a low and clipped voice. “A-a toilet? Would you please help me to a toilet?”

Fear spiked inside of Mike, but he managed to battle it down with a breath. He jumped to his feet and offered a hand to Kurt to take. Despite the fur on Kurt’s body, he felt warm and clammy to the touch. Mike tenderly wrapped Kurt’s arm around his shoulders, taking most of his weight from him as he stood. Kurt groaned softly, his own balance shaky at best.

“Hold on, dude,” Mike said. He jumped into action, leading Kurt as quickly as he could to the bathroom. Kurt didn’t have a whole lot of footing through the endeavor, and was more dragged by his arm than actually led. He didn’t complain. He could hardly tell. The world was spinning violently about him. When Michelangelo deposited him gently at the threshold of the bathroom, Kurt pitched forward to his hands and knees before he registered that Mike had even let go.

“I’m fine,” he rasped. His vision was gone, blacked out. Vertigo struck him hard, making it difficult for him to even stay upright on all fours. But he wasn’t going to ask a complete stranger to guide him any further.

“Yeah, sure,” Mike said without any conviction. “Raph!” he then shouted. The sound pained Kurt, but he no longer had the capability of speaking. He felt like throwing up, as his insides were in turmoil, but he didn’t think he was going to make it.

Raphael came running to Michelangelo’s position. He heard the panic in his voice. The absolute desperation. He didn’t sound hurt, but something was definitely wrong. “Mike – what’s goin’ on?” he asked quickly as he skidded to a stop.

Michelangelo crouched down over Kurt’s form. He’d collapsed to the side not long after Mike called for Raph’s help. “I dunno! He was fine, and then he wasn’t. And now he passed out. I thought for sure he was gonna blow.”

“Great, jus’ the sort of thing we needed,” Raphael grumbled. He knelt down beside Kurt and lifted him up into his arms. “Maybe it’s time one’a us grabs Master Splinter. Where’d Leo go, anyway?”

Mike looked down at the ground and scuffed his toe against the stone. “He said he was taking a nap.”

“Fantastic timing,” Raph said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. He walked Kurt back to the couch, setting him down right where Leonardo had upon discovering him. Raph had no idea where to start in diagnosing Kurt’s problems. That was Donatello’s forte, and everyone was under solid agreement that he needed his sleep.

Raphael didn’t care to acknowledge that everyone had gone to sleep after the explosions, save for Leo. Leonardo didn’t even offer to break watching over Kurt into shifts. He simply volunteered to stay up. Raph only felt peeved for his own shortcomings and lack of knowledge. It was a lot easier to shuck those feelings onto others to keep the fire going. Self-loathing was for Leonardo.

Splinter padded up to Raphael not long after he’d deposited Kurt onto the couch. Michelangelo followed him. He twisted his fingers together nervously and had his shoulders pulled forward.

“Michelangelo told me that our guest had collapsed,” Splinter said.

“Look, I jus’ brought him over here. I was in the kitchen. All I know is that when I got to Mikey, he was keeled over already.” Raphael took a step backwards to allow Splinter enough space to check him over.

“Is he gonna be okay, Sensei?” Mike asked. His voice shook.

Splinter placed the backs of his fingers against Kurt’s forehead before taking his pulse under his jawline. “I believe he will be fine. Whatever it was that brought him here may have caused his body great stress.”

“He told me that his brain needed to heal,” Mike said. He remained beyond the reach of the candlelight behind the couch.

Splinter nodded sagely. “It’s best to take him at his word. Allow him time to heal.” Splinter turned to head back in the direction of the kitchen. “Perhaps you can use this time wisely by quietly meditating. A rest day may be beneficiary to us all.”

Raphael snorted. “That’s the second time in two days Splinter’s roasted you on yer noise level, Mikey. I think he’s tryin’a tell ya somethin’.”

“Shut up, Raph.” Michelangelo craned his neck upwards to get a peek of Kurt’s sleeping body. “So, whatever just happened before he passed out … that’s normal? He just needs rest?”

“Beats me,” Raphael said. He stepped away from the living area again, following Splinter. He still had a mess to clean up in the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

Donatello swore that he’d opened his eyes, yet everything appeared the same whether or not his eyes were shut. He twisted gently to his side, fully conscious of blinking but seeing nothing. The results yielded nothing new. The surface upon which Donatello slept was soft, but he had no recollection of putting himself to bed. He was totally and utterly confused.

What was it that Donatello last remembered doing? He stroked the sheets underneath his weight, straining his brain to recall. It definitely felt like he was in his bed. The more he thought about it, however, the less Donatello remembered how he got to where he was. What was it that Don did remember?

As Donatello struggled to recollect, the sense of frustration sparked a feeling of déjà vu. An entirely unhelpful sense of déjà vu. It merely served for his vexations to mount, as he had no base to start understanding these emotions.

The power must have been out. Donatello had an alarm clock perched on a bedside tablet, providing just enough illumination to see by for most cases. Considering the absolute blackness surrounding him, but Donatello’s familiarity with his bed, the power must have been out. Perhaps the past didn’t matter as much if he knew that he needed to forge onward and investigate the lack of power. Was it his wiring or was the city out?

Donatello swung his legs over the side of the bed and took a short breath before climbing to his feet. He felt incredibly sore. Not the soreness caused by an intense workout, but by an intense battering. The peculiarities surrounding his unaccounted for amnesia confounded the turtle. Nothing made sense, and the more he woke up, the worse the inconsistencies became.

Counting the steps, Donatello made it to his doorway. He grabbed one side with both hands as he peered out over the lair. One single candle provided light in the living part of the lair. Beyond that, the vast space was completely dark. At least Donatello had a starting point in his quest for memory. He strode forward to the edge of the walk marking the second floor of the lair, and then jumped smoothly to the ground. He remained crouched only for a moment before he rose to his feet and navigated the little clutter he knew was there.

Upon reaching the couch, however, even more questions met his face.

“Who are you?” Donatello asked. He didn’t mean for the words to come out so rudely, but there was no taking them back once they were said.

The who in question blinked open his eyes at Don’s words and a smile rose to his lips. He lounged comfortably across the length of the couch, occupying himself with absolutely nothing but his thoughts. “My name is Kurt. Unless there are even more brothers not yet mentioned, you must be Don?” he guessed.

“Yeah, I am,” Donatello said. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought his hands up to the sides of his head, massaging himself with the sides of his hands. “I’m really confused. We haven’t met?”

“No. This is the first time,” Kurt confirmed. “I’d stand to greet you, but I don’t know how well my head is functioning at the moment. I’m surprised that I can even talk without slurring.”

Donatello scooted around the couch to sit on the floor before it. “Why’s that?” he asked. “Where did you come from?”

“Concussion. And I’m from New York. The state. Further north than New York City. I’m beginning to think it’s not _your_ New York.”

Donatello felt electrified. A cold jolt of intense understanding filled every cell of his body. He knew that his expression didn’t read so innocently, either.

“Don?” Kurt questioned. His voice was concerned. Not accusatory. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what Donatello knew.

“Oh no,” Donatello squeaked out. It was all he could get his mouth to say.

“Don, what’s wrong?” Kurt reached out, and that was enough to get Donatello moving again. His hand, without consulting his brain, slapped Kurt’s hand away before it could near him.

“Sorry. Oh … oh no.” Donatello pounced right back to his feet despite the bruises protesting, and began pacing back and forth in the candlelight.

“Hey Donnie – you’re up,” Raphael called from the shadows. He joined the circle of light with cheerful ignorance. His expression changed immediately upon seeing Don’s distressed state. “Whoa, bro. What’s goin’ on?”

“Raph, I messed up,” Donatello confessed. He couldn’t help the urgency that laced his voice, despite its lack of excuse for existing.

“Donnie, slow down. You’ve been asleep for like an entire day. How could you have messed up?”

Don paused for a moment only to add more horror to his expression. He resumed pacing, too lost in his thoughts to explain to Kurt and Raph his distress.

Kurt stared at Raph, hoping for even a small explanation to Donatello’s erratic behavior, but Raphael was too caught up in trying to get Donatello to stop. Raphael positioned himself in the middle of Donatello’s path, his hands up openly to try and get his brother’s attention.

“Donnie, Donnie!” Raphael begged. His voice rose in volume as his fear spiked. Donatello didn’t get worked up. Donatello simply hunkered down. Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, he lashed out to grab him by the wrists. “Donatello!” he shouted. He didn’t want to sound stern, but nothing was getting across to him. “Snap outta it, bro! What is goin’ on?”

Leonardo materialized out of the darkness, but didn’t say a word. Kurt acknowledge his presence with a thunderstruck expression, but Raphael and Donatello were both too wrapped up to realize he was there.

“I don’t really know. I can’t remember how I got in bed or what I did yesterday.” He stopped there, choking up or lost for words.

“I told ya, ya slept all day yesterday,” Raph explained as patiently as he could.

“Donnie,” Leonardo said. Donatello jumped and turned his wide eyes to his other brother. “We found you unconscious in your lab two nights ago. We were woken by what sounded like explosions but felt like earthquakes. We had to dig you out of the wreckage of your lab, and found Kurt in there, too.”

Donatello’s dread deepened to the point where he couldn’t speak. He fell weakly to his knees, slowed down by Raphael’s firm grip on his wrists.

“What do you know that yer not tellin’ us?” Raphael asked. He slipped into a crouch beside Don, refusing to let go. Something told him that Donatello needed as much grounding as they could pull together.

“I need a moment,” he squeaked. He knew that if he tried explaining things, they wouldn’t make sense to anyone but him. He had too much emotion swimming around and not enough coherent thought. Don felt lost in his absolute and utter failure. Here he thought that things couldn’t get worse than not working.

“All the time that you need,” Leonardo assured him. He couldn’t keep the tightness out of his throat as he spoke. Donatello was their emotional rock, out of the four of them. He never was distraught to the point of him suffering from a break such as this.

“You need some water?” Raphael asked.

Leonardo nodded. “You must be dehydrated. I think the only thing you’ve had to drink all week was a few dozen pots of coffee.” He even kept the subsequent lecture under control. It mapped itself out in his brain at the mere mention of coffee, but Leonardo suppressed it.

“Water can wait,” Don said. He closed his eyes and started deep breathing. Leonardo felt a little tension ease, though still felt incredibly concerned.

Raphael looked to Leonardo with a panicked expression. While Raph was a being of raw emotion, he didn’t know how to best deal with the more sensitive ones, like most of Donatello’s. Usually Raphael was the turtle that required consoling and Donatello was the one to best give it. Leonardo could only offer Raphael a shrug. Whatever they were doing, Donatello seemed to be coming down from his episode.

“May I interject that whatever it is that has you worked up, if it concerns me, I hold no blame and have no hard feelings?” Kurt said awkwardly.

Donatello cracked a smile, though it came across as a more maniacal and off-putting to Raphael than had Don kept a neutral face. “That … kind of doesn’t help,” he said.

Leonardo sat down on the arm of the couch, feeling a little safer now that they were getting a conversation from Donatello. “Wanna tell us what just happened?” Leo asked.

Donatello took another couple deep breaths. He has his head hung and didn’t bother to break free from Raph’s grip. “Not really,” he said.

Raphael had an immediate sinking feeling. Donatello keeping himself closed up, especially after freaking out, couldn’t have been any creepier than if he tried. Leonardo felt similarly, his mind flashing to the conversation with Michelangelo where he admitted Don may have been a little insane.

“N-not really?” Leonardo echoed. He couldn’t help but feel taken aback at the outright rejection. The hard shutting off Donatello, of all turtles, did to him.

“Not really,” Donatello repeated with a little more strength. He lifted his head to level a look at their team’s leader. “I don’t want to talk about why or what just happened.” Donatello jerked his hands away from Raph’s grasp, throwing subtlety to the wind. Raphael, unnerved by Donatello’s uncharacteristic behavior, easily let go and even went as far as backing up out of his way.

“Donatello, we don’t understand. We want to help,” Leonardo explained. He knew he was grasping at straws. Appealing to Donatello’s compassion was the only option he could think of.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Donatello said. He pushed himself to his feet, disregarding Raphael’s submissive presence. “I haven’t explained anything and I don’t want to. I need to be alone right now.”

“Donnie, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Raphael said quickly. Blowing off steam on his lonesome was a Raphael specialty. Donatello wishing for alone time after a manic breakdown didn’t sound like it could be beneficiary to anyone.

“You don’t think,” Donatello shot back scathingly.

Leonardo slipped to his feet, crouched and ready for Donatello to react violently. He couldn’t breathe past the lump in his throat. Don breaking down in a panic attack was horrific enough. Donatello lashing out angrily immediately after was one of the worst things Leonardo could see his brother go through. “Hey, that’s a pretty low blow, even for the likes of Raph,” Leonardo said. He wanted to snap at Donatello, and would have given different circumstances. Instead, he somehow heard a quiver in his voice. Raphael didn’t even have a comeback for Leonardo’s offhanded attack.

“Leave me alone, Leo,” Donatello sneered. “I asked for space, for the first time in my life.” He stepped around Raph and closer to Leo, challenging him to stop him.

“Don, we can help,” Leonardo said. He stepped sideways to block his brother’s escape.

“No, you _really_ can’t,” Don said. Donatello had to take another step to the side to avoid crashing straight into Leo, but he didn’t pull off enough to keep from aggressively bumping shoulders with him. Stupefied, Leonardo let him storm off into the shroud of darkness.

The three mutants left behind remained silent for a long time, frozen in their places. Raphael and Leonardo had never seen such an outburst from Donatello. Kurt felt like he was dropped in the middle of a family feud he knew nothing about. Whatever it was that he witnessed wasn’t the type of event to leave the family. Beholding it firsthand made him feel dirty.

“What just happened?” Raphael asked, breaking the silence.

Leonardo slowly turned to face him. He couldn’t erase the dumbfounded expression he adopted when Donatello burst past. “I … I have no idea.”

“Hey guys!” Michelangelo said. He bounded into their circle of light. “Did I just hear Donnie’s voice? He’s awake?” He stopped abruptly and took in their expressions. “What’s wrong?”

“You best leave Don alone right now,” Leonardo warned Michelangelo.

“Why? What happened?” Mike looked between Raph and Leo. He felt utterly confused. The only one to ever warn Mike to step away from Donatello was Donatello.

“We’re still workin’ on the answer to that,” Raphael said.

Michelangelo turned to Kurt, expecting the outsider to misunderstand the dynamics and spill the beans. Kurt shook his head. “Don’t ask me, mein Freund.”

“Guys, I don’t get it. It’s Donnie. You’re acting like you just saw a ghost or something.” He gasped. “He’s not like a zombie or something, is he?”

Leonardo shook his head, taken aback by Mike’s conclusion. “What? No. Really? Donnie just needs some alone time right now. He’s taking something really hard right now and he doesn’t need you making it worse.”

“Donnie doesn’t need alone time,” Mike said. “He’s always okay to talk to, even when he has a really big project he’s working on.”

Leonardo tossed him the fiercest look he could muster. “No, Mikey.”

“But what about the power? Weren’t we waiting on Donnie to wake up and fix the power?”

Kurt’s eyes flicked back and forth between the remaining brothers. They certainly bickered like siblings. It made Kurt uncomfortable to witness. Hoping that his concussion would allow it, he decided to slink away. He rolled with slow control in a backwards somersault over the arm of the couch, depositing himself gently onto the floor. He paused, listening for a reaction from one of the turtles, but they were still too enveloped in their own problems. Using all fours, Kurt followed Donatello’s path across the lair.

Kurt leaned his back against the doorway to the room in which Don disappeared, his legs still bent in a crouch. He wasn’t feeling the extreme vertigo from the day before, but he didn’t exactly feel back to normal. Kurt rapped his knuckles against the door frame. The sound hardly carried, but it was enough for Donatello to react.

“I said to leave me alone,” Donatello snarled.

Kurt took a breath and stood, swinging into the doorway. Kurt should have known that the turtle mutants were dangerous. They were all built up with muscle. Leonardo carried swords on his back. He’d watched all of them effortlessly make the jump from the top floor to the ground. It went without question that they knew how to use their bodies. Kurt just didn’t expect to experience that control firsthand. As soon as Kurt presented himself, a little off-kilter as he gripped the edge of the doorway, Donatello flashed a wooden staff around from its resting position against a destroyed desk to a jabbing position into Kurt’s chest. Even with a bruised brain with limited function, Kurt couldn’t help but react. He let go of the door frame and stepped clear of the staff’s projection, holding up his hands to catch it broadside and retaliate. Kurt didn’t get as far as grabbing the staff. Donatello stopped his attack inches short, but his stance meant business.

“I’m very sorry,” Kurt said quickly. He already had his hands up in the air, so he raised them minutely to signify surrender. Kurt didn’t mean to react with the intention of hurting in response, but it was what he trained his body to do over the years.

Donatello’s face twisted in confusion once he realized that he confronted Kurt rather than one of his brothers. He slowly dropped the staff, but kept his stance. “You?” he asked.

Kurt didn’t shower Donatello with the respect that he commanded, considering how Don thought that he held the upper hand. Kurt’s eyes wandered beyond the turtle to the wreckage in the room. This must have been the lab where the explosion happened. It was an incomprehensible, twisted mess. “Listen, I don’t want to stir any of the emotions that came to surface back there.” His gaze flicked to the staff before settling on Don’s face. “I got here through my own means, uh, kind of.”

Donatello narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I still don’t remember how anything happened,” he said. “All I can do is make inferences. How do you think you got here?”

“I have a mutant power. Teleportation. It’s short range, point A to point B. But I have encountered a being that can manipulate my teleports. I was fighting that thing before I woke up in your home. I think, to get rid of me once and for all in his quest to exterminate mutants, he zapped me into an alternate dimension.”

The tip of Donatello’s staff tapped the ground. Donatello’s muscles relaxed, but he still didn’t move his feet to drop his fighting stance. He looked over at his brothers in the living area, and then beckoned Kurt into his lab. The intimidation left him as soon as he stepped his foot back. Kurt entered the room slowly, aware that Donatello moved to cut him off and shut the door as soon as he made room.

“I haven’t told my brothers this, but this project –” he gestured vaguely toward a twisted scrap of metal “- is an interdimensional gateway.”

Kurt blinked, holding his eyelids shut for a moment longer than normal. That wasn’t something he expected. They almost felt like a typical family, at least in Kurt’s standards, and then Donatello nonchalantly dropped the very blatant fact that he was either a loony or a genius. Kurt expected the former, considering the way his brothers spoke of him. “You’re just … playing with dimensional travel for fun?” Kurt choked.

Donatello looked down and inhaled, his breath catching in his throat. “No, not for fun. I have a friend that I lost in some other dimension, and I mean to bring him back.”

“Okay,” Kurt said. He didn’t know what else he could say that would fill in that space.

“This scientific approach to a gateway between dimensions hasn’t been a smooth, cut and dry kind of project,” Donatello explained.

“I wouldn’t expect it to,” Kurt said.

“I know I’ve spent weeks troubleshooting, trying to figure out why it won’t even power up. I never got a spark from it. Until, apparently, two days ago about the time that you showed up. I thought that I’d pulled you into our dimension somehow and caused this … destruction to my lab.” Donatello ended his hypothesis with a lot less conviction than when he’d started.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the two events, on either side of whatever it is that separates dimensions, crossed. My teleport was the catalyst to Nimrod’s manipulations and your dimensional experiment.” Kurt shrugged. “It isn’t the first time I’ve been caught in a dimension different from my own,” he said casually. “Promise me that you won’t turn me into a prisoner of war slave, and you have me as a teammate.”

“Did anyone tell you what we do?” Donatello asked flatly.

“No, not directly. You’re fighters. You’re a family. And you have morals. Morals are a really big plus.”

“We’re ninja,” Don said. “And yes, we’re a family. We follow the bushido code of honor. But that’s who we are, not exactly what we do.”

Kurt smiled. “Doesn’t matter. Think I may have a sword?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is still written 100% in-cannon-character. Teenagers are volatile creatures. Even Donnie. I mean, how would you react if you just found out that you're the likely cause of two lives turning hard to the left?


	4. Chapter 4

Donatello inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly. Even with Kurt’s reasoning for his existence in an alternate plane of reality, Donatello knew that a part of it had to be his fault. He immediately felt the guilt eating away at his insides. Donatello didn’t appreciate guilt. Leonardo allowed it to eat away at his insides, and Donatello could not end up like him.

“I’ll have to start rebuilding the portal,” Donatello said. The lab was completely dark. Even Donatello didn’t dare move his hand from the door handle, for fear that he wouldn’t find it again. This room was his sanctuary, but it didn’t look like any way he’d leave it. Most of its contents lay in wreck, thanks to the explosions. Donatello saw a glimpse of his works’ demise, but the extent was still unknown. “Unless you know another way you can get home yourself.”

“Absolutely not.” Kurt brushed his tail across the ground, allowing it to lightly caress the debris in its path. He wasn’t convinced that a turtle mutant hiding in the sewers of New York City would be capable of carrying out the promise of building a miraculous interdimensional portal without a team of scientists to aide him. Unless the technology was vastly different in this world than Kurt’s own, such a thing was impossible to even the world’s leading researchers. Judging by what he saw of the rest of the lair, however, that wasn’t the case. The mansion Kurt lived in was incredibly more technologically advanced, in fact.

“Listen, I have been stranded in another dimension before for months. An outside force, through the combination of sorcery and the technologies of intergalactic species, had to bring me back. If this is my new home, I guess that is how it will be. I don’t want any pressure on you.”

Donatello grinned. “I, also, have the technologies of an intergalactic species.” His grin faltered. “And crystals, if I need them.”

“Shi’ar?” Kurt asked hopefully.

“Utrom,” Donatello said. Kurt had never heard of them, but that didn’t mean anything. Kurt’s experiences with extraterrestrials was fairly limited in the grand scheme of things. Though Kurt did wonder how Donatello could have alien technology available to him, and then rely on patched together electronics throughout their home.

“Anyway, before you can think of starting work, we need lights. I volunteer my services. I prefer to be thought of not as a guest while I am here, but a –”

“A teammate,” Donatello finished for him. He shook his head solemnly and turned the handle to the lab door, letting in the faint flickering of the candle. “I’m sure we’ll get to that point eventually. For now, I couldn’t expect you to fix whatever I not only broke, but created initially.”

“Excuse me?” Kurt asked out of curiosity.

“I wired this place. Syphoned energy off of the city and routed it through the lair. My supplies are limited, so of course I need to update runs and circuits periodically as I reevaluate weak points. But I think I outdid myself this time. I just wish I could remember what I did.” Perhaps, even if Donatello did have access to Utrom technology, whatever that was, it was severely limited in quantity. Kurt wasn’t sure of the whole story but wasn’t going to ask.

Kurt followed Donatello out of the lab and into the main area of the lair. They stopped outside of Donatello’s brothers’ earshot. Close enough to see, but not be seen. “From the sounds of it, you were in the epicenter of the blast that brought me here. You might not remember exactly what happened, for it may have been too quick for your mind to track.”

Donatello looked down at the ground sheepishly. “And I was running on a few days of no sleep. I do know that.”

“You, mein Freund, are a danger to yourself.” Kurt knew the type; he was one of them as well. He draped his arm across Donatello’s shoulders and steered him back towards the three other brothers. Donatello’s muscles immediately seized up in alarm, but he didn’t try too hard to fight Kurt. His feet moved in the direction Kurt guided him in. “You will have to quit worrying about it. No sense in disrupting your future with what you can’t fix about the past.” He poked him in the center of the chest. “We can fix things together going forward, nicht wahr?”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” Don asked. He truly didn’t want to confront his brothers again after his meltdown, yet Kurt wasn’t giving him the choice. Kurt’s immediate demeanor was friendly, but he carried an unspoken force behind his positivity and openness. Donatello had the feeling that if he did try resisting Kurt’s less than subtle push, Kurt’s guidance would become heavier handed.

“I have not been known to do so, no.”

Leonardo turned around at the sound of Kurt’s voice. His stare, directed at not only Donatello but Kurt as well, was icy cold. He crossed his arms stiffly over his carapace and held his feet slightly wider than hip width. Leonardo was angry and disappointed enough to go silent on Donatello.

Raphael, on the other hand, battled concern and annoyance across his face. His arms hung limply at his side and he shifted from one foot to another once he noticed the two approaching mutants. Michelangelo hid behind him, his eyes wide.

“Feeling better, Kurt?” Leonardo asked. He couldn’t hide the steel from his tone, but it didn’t even cause Kurt to flinch. Donatello tried to step away from Kurt as he dragged him nearer, but Kurt’s grip on him was too firm.

“Less nauseated, thank you,” Kurt replied cheerily.

“What happened to yer alone time, Donnie?” Raphael asked snidely.

Donatello looked over at Kurt without moving his head before returning his eyes to Raph.

“Dude, I need to know your secrets,” Michelangelo said to Kurt. He moved around Raphael to the center of the mutants.

“Care to explain?” Leonardo pressed Donatello.

“Not really,” Donatello repeated.

Kurt released Donatello’s shoulder and elbowed him in the side between plastron and shell in one smooth movement. “Apologize for your harsh words,” he suggested through the side of his mouth, quiet enough so that anyone with normal hearing would struggle to hear.

Donatello staggered and then opened his mouth, searching for the right thing to say. The four mutants watched him silently until Kurt stepped forward and stood tall. His presence took some of the pressure off of Donatello, easing up on his tension. “What is it that you think must be explained?” he asked Leonardo.

Leonardo jolted at the loss of power, but continued to hold on to his posture. “What?”

Kurt tilted his chin downwards expectantly.

“Who are you to challenge us like this?” Raph barked. His fists balled at his sides. “You don’t know us.”

“You’re not a subtle bunch,” Kurt observed.

“No, we’re really not in family affairs,” Donatello agreed. His averted his gaze sideways.

“Okay, my head hurts too much to start or end any arguments here,” Kurt said. “So I’ll ask you to question yourself about why you think anything needs explaining. Don came back to you, not to receive more abuse but to fix the electricity.” Kurt flopped sideways onto the couch, fully aware that he could be stepping on toes with such a dramatic confrontation. Hurt feelings concerning him personally could be smoothed over later.

Leonardo worked his jaw. The muscles in his arms tensed and released. His eyes flicked back and forth between Kurt and Donatello. He wasn’t sure whom to be more frustrated at.

Donatello closed in his eyes and drew in a breath. When he opened his eyes again, he leveled a disgruntled look at Kurt lounging comfortably across the couch. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Don said to Raph. “But I’m not sorry for defending myself,” he added directly to Leonardo. “I can’t fix anything with you all breathing down my neck.”

Michelangelo adopted the most puzzled expression his reptilian face could adopt as his eyes jumped from one turtle to the next. None of what they said made any sense to him.

“What needs fixed?” Leonardo asked. “You’re not talking about the electricity.”

Kurt held up a finger. “Mein Freund, please listen. He asked for you to respect his boundaries.”

Leonardo flashed him a confused look. Boundaries weren’t exactly their family’s strong suit.

Raphael placed a hand on Leonardo’s shoulder. Leo jumped, almost losing the tension in his crossed arms. “Why don’t we go blow off some steam, bro?” he suggested in a completely controlled and sane voice.

Leonardo’s expression deepened and he craned his head to send the look to Raph. “What? This isn’t the time, Raph.”

“Why not?” Raph asked conversationally. “We’ve been pent up down here for a while. I think it’s startin’ ta get to ya. Outta all’a us here, I think I’m the one ta get that the most.”

Donatello’s eyes stared widely at Raphael, shining with admiration for his attempt to diffuse the situation. Don didn’t expect it, but appreciated him immensely for it. Kurt smiled softly at Raph, pleased at him for stepping up in Donatello’s defense. Michelangelo, continued standing dumbly in the middle.

“Donnie’ll keep things under control down here,” Raphael persisted. “C’mon, I know yer itchin’ ta let it out, bro.”

Leonardo growled and dropped his arms, though his hands squeezed into fists as they released from the crossed position. Raphael’s offer sounded tempting, and the typically irrational turtle was making sense to Leonardo’s taxed brain. “Alright, fine. Michelangelo, you’ll call us if anything funny happens, right?”

Michelangelo whipped around to face Leonardo directly, letting out a little squeak as he moved. “Yeah, yeah! You got it, bro. I’ll just wait here for Donnie to turn on the juice. I miss my babies.” He stared off longingly in the direction of the television sets, a dreamy smile threatening to finally break his inability to follow everyone’s emotions. He understood his emotions. Mike was bored and ready for some tried and true entertainment.

Donatello rolled his eyes at Michelangelo’s theatrics. “Thanks, Leo,” he said softly.

Leonardo squinted. “For what?”

“For dropping it.”

“We always got each other’s backs, Donnie,” Raphael said. He clapped Leonardo on the shoulder again in good nature. “Sometimes we just gotta remind each other ‘bout it, right, Leo?”

Leonardo dropped his shoulders and remained silent.

Raphael strode forward, switching both of his hands to the butts of his sais. “We’re jus’ gonna go for a long run. Maybe bash some punks’ heads in here an’ there.”

Leonardo groaned and followed Raphael. “No, we’re not seeking out confrontation, Raph,” he said.

“Like we have to seek out punks,” Raphael scoffed. “We can’t jus’ ignore them bein’ shitty.”

“No, no we can’t,” Leonardo conceded under his breath. They disappeared from the candlelit circle, their voices quieting as they walked away.

“I will admit,” Kurt said, “that was unexpected.”

“Yeah,” Don agreed.

Michelangelo turned to Donatello with a maniacal grin. “So Donnie, how long’s it gonna take you to turn on the power? My babies are callin’ my name!”

“Well Mikey, it all depends.” Donatello straightened, put a hand on his hip, and lifted the other in the air. His eyes unfocused, but a smile graced his face. “First, I need to diagnose – ”

“Boring!” Michelangelo cut in. “I don’t want details. I want the good stuff.”

Donatello sniffed in amusement. He didn’t expect to lose Mike’s interest before he managed to say one sentence. “It might take me days, Mikey.”

“Yer lyin’,” Mike accused with a terrified undertone.

“I have no reason to,” Don said. He turned in the direction of his lab, striding away with casual relaxation. “You know what would help, though? Quiet. Leaving me alone.”

“See, you always say stuff like that,” Michelangelo called after him. “But I don’t think you really mean it, bro. Like, my presence is a grace. It’s my shining smile that makes things go so well, y’know.”

“No,” Kurt said. He twisted and covered his face with his forearm. “That’s not exactly how it works.”

Kurt’s input provided cover for Donatello’s retreat. Michelangelo whipped around, lowering himself into a firmer stance as he did so. “Yeah? You know all about that, huh?”

“I do know that my head is pounding,” Kurt mumbled. “It needs a break. From thinking. From moving. From noise. That was a lot of excitement for poor, little concussed Kurt.”

“Didn’t you cause most of it?” Mike asked. “Ya gotta know what you’re signing yourself up for around here.”

“I promise that when my brain stops feeling like the one stop shop for push pins, my energy will be on your level. You show me your pranks, I’ll show you mine. But please, _please,_ give me a few days to get there.”

Michelangelo lifted his head in wonder at Kurt’s words. He thought for a moment, figuring everything Kurt said directly and all the implications behind it. “Okay, you tell me how to get Raphie real good and you have a deal.”

“No, not now,” Kurt said. His voice was gravelly; his words spoken so slowly they nearly slurred. “I need a nap now.”

“I’ll remember this,” Mike threatened.

“Fine.”

Michelangelo pointed at him as he backed out of the circle of flickering light. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself with everyone leaving him at once, but he’d find something to do. Kurt’s mention of pranks really had his mind working on something good for his absent brothers. A good reaction from the absolute darkness of the lair brought on by a well thought out trick was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Mike passed Donatello unwittingly, for Donatello hadn’t disappeared into his lab as his actions implied. A part of him was interested in seeing how Kurt dealt with Michelangelo one to one. Most people or beings the turtles encountered couldn’t handle Mike’s exuberance for too long. Their helpless frustrations at Michelangelo’s endless pit of energy left them frothing at the mouth. Even Raphael, who had grown up with Mike, couldn’t always ignore him when he was on a roll. Part of that had to do with the fact that Michelangelo was a very observant turtle, along with his perpetual source of energy. Michelangelo knew what buttons belonged to everyone and how to press them. In no way could Mike know Kurt’s buttons already, but Donatello figured that he would try.

Kurt ended up being triumphant over the turtles’ own crazy secret weapon. Kurt outwitted the monster. Talked him down. Donatello was fascinated to some degree. He felt a small need to distance himself from Kurt before he somehow steered Don into some other uncomfortable situation. But mostly, he was grateful for Kurt’s careful diffusing after it all. Donatello hadn’t been up for long, but within minutes Kurt had forced the brothers to live out an entire day’s worth of drama. Michelangelo wished he had that kind of power.

The drama, however, was quickly over once Michelangelo walked away from Kurt. Which left Donatello to his own devices to figure out what exactly had knocked out the lair’s power. He was absolutely certain that the problem lay internally rather than in the city’s loss of electricity.

Donatello didn’t mind that Kurt had promised help with the electric, and then almost immediately dozed off upon reaching the couch, exempting him from that promise. Don didn’t receive help with his work. When he did, the help was hardly … helpful. Namely in respect to Michelangelo’s help, Donatello was better off working on anything that didn’t require ninja training by himself. That didn’t mean Donatello was a loner that couldn’t work with anyone. Him and April started off on the right foot together and could collaborate perfectly. It simply meant that Donatello was unfazed.

As before, when Donatello had asked for alone time, he entered his lab. The first time around, Don didn’t know what to expect. Leonardo mentioned that it sounded as if an explosion occurred within, but Don couldn’t see any outward signs. In fact, when he stepped through the threshold into his lab, he had a difficult time seeing what Leonardo meant. The area was too dark for his eyes to adjust too much from the dim candlelight in the center of the living area.

The second time Donatello entered his lab after the events of the night previous, he felt more on mission than before. His goal was to restore power to the lair. That required tools within his lab. He knew exactly where he stashed them, though he typically appreciated eyesight for the task of fetching anything from within his chaotically organized room. Don didn’t realize how much he valued sight until he took more than a few steps inside his lab.

It took all of his learned balance to keep from toppling over once his toe connected with – Donatello wasn’t exactly sure what it was. The object was heavy with sharp edges. It cut into Donatello’s flesh, rolled a little away from him and swiftly settled. Donatello gasped and brought his foot closer to his face, but he couldn’t see what damage had been done; it was much too dark in the room for seeing macro, let alone micro. The pain didn’t feel too sharp, however, so Donatello inferred the damage negligible. It merely lent a sense to simply how destroyed the contents of his sanctuary room were.

The first step in restoring power to the lair had to be finding a reliable light source to see and work by. Something not directional, but preferably brighter than a candle.

Donatello tentatively took another step forward and didn’t end up connecting with anything. His next step landed his sole on another unidentified object, also sharp. Donatello sharply retracted his foot and placed it behind him again.

Maybe the better course of action would be to grab a candle to find the light source he required. Step one a. Then Donatello could proceed to step one b to figure out what exactly step two was.

Donatello back tracked, bee lining toward the candle someone in his family had already lit. Michelangelo wasn’t around to appreciate it, and Kurt had fallen asleep again. Donatello picked it up with care to transport it slowly to his lab.

The sight of the room stopped Donatello in his tracks. He gasped audibly as his eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped. Nothing – absolutely nothing – was distinguishable from its original form within the room. The dimensional portal was gone. Donatello couldn’t find a true trace of it. The tables were scattered woodchips throughout the base of the walls. Everything Donatello had on top of those tables ended up abstrusely across the floor. Chunks of metal, of books, of once workable technologies, lay scattered. The candlelight made the destruction appear worse, deepening shadows with its flickering dance. Nothing looked as Donatello had left it.

“I survived this?” Donatello whispered to himself. His horrified tone caught him off guard. No wonder he felt bruised and battered, as if he had walked away from a fearsome battle. 

Guided by sight, Donatello carefully picked his way through the remains of his lab and began the task of finding his tools required for electrical work. He’d consider himself lucky if he ended up also finding a better source of light, but Donatello figured that he already had an insurmountable task in locating the tools. As always, nothing could be simple.

Donatello wasted a lot of time combing through the remains of his belongings, all originally meant for the betterment of their existence. He sorted through debris that couldn’t be utilized. He sifted out things that could possibly be repaired or reused. Don kept his goal in mind, but he didn’t see any harm in multitasking.

Don heard Raphael and Leonardo return before he found the tools he sought. It sparked a sense of panic within him. Their run couldn’t have been too short, considering their ethics. Both brothers lived to train their bodies. Leonardo preferred precision whereas Raphael preferred brute strength, but they each pursued greatness with high expectations of their bodies.

Raphael steered away from Leonardo after entering their home, and his feet eventually brought him to the distraught Donatello. “Yo, bro, what’s goin’ on in here?”

“I – that’s a good question,” Donatello said.

Raphael studied the large pile of discarded junk that Donatello had collected. “Okay, whattya doin’?”

“Trying to find my electrical tools. I had it in a small tool bag, but I haven’t even seen a sign of it yet.” Donatello sat back and frowned. “I could tentatively diagnose the problem without them, but I know I’ll need them. I have a feeling everything’s fried.”

“Thought there was s’posed ta be fail safes an’ stuff,” Raph said. “So that shit don’t happen.”

Donatello pointed upwards. “This circuit is melted.” A black line ran everywhere Donatello had strung an electrical wire. “Whatever caused the explosion went through the electric line and flash melted everything on this circuit. I haven’t looked at the breakers yet, but I’d really like to run some tests before I try switching breakers.”

“Thought the whole point’a them was to keep electrical surges from burnin’ everythin’ out.”

“They’re not designed for this level of electrical feedback. I’ll probably have to find new everything to get the power back on in our lair.”

“So everything that was hooked up to the electric is toast?” Raphael asked.

“Possibly,” Donatello said. “I had my computers backed up to externals that I don’t keep plugged in all the time, so I shouldn’t have lost anything. But it’s going to take a lot to get everything back the way we like it.”

“Mikey’s games?”

“I don’t want to say anything in absolutes. The tv monitors and the video game consoles were all on a different circuit than my lab. They might have been protected. I just haven’t gone around to look yet.”

“So what yer sayin’ is that we ain’t gettin’ lights back for a while.”

Donatello stared at Raph with a flat expression. “It might take a few days. It might not.”

Raphael remained silent for a moment as he thought. “You remember what happened?”

“I doubt I’ll ever know for sure,” Donatello said.

Raphael studied Donatello’s suddenly reclusive body language with narrowed eyes. “But yer pretty sure you know what happened.” Donatello didn’t confirm nor deny. “Alright, I’ll stop pressin’, Donnie. I ain’t Leo. Just … we ain’t gonna be mad at ya or nothin’. Even if this is all yer fault somehow, we definitely been through worse.” Raphael lowered his head and shifted his feet uncomfortably. “It’s not like ya tried to hurt anyone intentionally.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I guess what I mean is, we got yer back, bro. Even though you’re keepin’ secrets. We trust ya.”

Donatello sat stock still and squeezed his eyes shut. Raphael did not make it a habit to open up to anyone. The words he spoke to Donatello were rare and heartfelt. “I hope I can talk about it some day,” Donatello said in a soft tone.

Raphael tapped the doorframe and straightened up. “I’m gonna see if I can snatch another candle from Master Splinter,” he said. “I dunno how many of those things he’s got, but if you got the one we were usin’ by the couch, we should probably replace it before Mikey panics an’ accidentally kills himself somehow.”

“I really hope that I’ll find something else to use,” Don told him. “It’ll be a challenge to rewire this place with this small flame.”

Raphael eyed its wick. “It’s not like that one was gonna last that much longer anyway. Mike has a flashlight he used when we dug ya outta here. You might be able to ask him ta use that.”

Donatello brightened. “I’ll keep that in mind. The tools are still my priority, though.”

Raphael shrugged. “Let me know if ya need ta make a run up top. Maybe it’ll be more excitin’ with you than it was with Leo tonight.”

“A run with me up top shouldn’t be remotely close to as exciting as the kind of run you and Leo were on tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s what you say.” Raphael moved away and disappeared, once again leaving Donatello to his own devices.


	5. Chapter 5

Michelangelo screamed. The sound reverberated across the lair, bouncing off surfaces, leaving no space devoid of his shout. Kurt stopped mid-step, feeling the hair rise along his spine. He didn’t realize they were in danger. In fact, Kurt didn’t think they could be endangered where they called home.

“Don’t worry about it,” Donatello told him. Donatello sounded unamused, his voice flat in tone.

“What – it’s normal for … screaming?” Kurt felt dumbfounded and at a loss for words. He didn’t understand how Donatello could brush off a shrill scream so easily.

“Yes, for Michelangelo,” Donatello explained. “Brace yourself.”

Michelangelo whipped out of his room, throwing himself against the brace that held up the edge of the flooring of the second level. He gripped onto it with sure fingers, leaning over to seek out Donatello. His manic grin widened when he saw Kurt with him. “You fixed it!” he screeched. “You’re my hero!” He launched himself to the floor, smoothly rolling when he hit. As soon as Mike rolled himself upright, he dashed forward and leapt into Kurt’s arms. Kurt staggered backwards, nearly falling with Mike on top of him. Unperturbed, Michelangelo refused to let go and squeezed him tightly.

A door on the main floor slid open soon after, exposing a mutant Kurt hadn’t yet met. Short of air, Kurt could only bug out his eyes at the sight of someone new.

“I am pleased, my son,” he said in a frail, raspy voice. “You finished just in time for my soaps to air!”

Michelangelo immediately let go of Kurt and spun around. “No, Master Splinter!” he shouted. He panicked. “You can’t! I’ve waited so long! So patiently! You should be so proud of me!”

The mutant rat held up a finger as he slowly walked across the lit lair, using a walk stick as he moved. “So you may wait an hour more, Michelangelo. You have been patient, and you will be patient a while longer.”

Michelangelo fell to his knees, reaching out in Splinter’s direction. “How could you do this to me?” he screamed dramatically. “You’re killing me!”

Fixing the power in the lair did take a little longer than Donatello would normally anticipate. With Kurt’s help, he had to replace the entirety of the circuit his lab was connected to. If it hadn’t been for Kurt, Donatello would still be working on the entire thing. Kurt failed to mention that he could stick to walls until he simply walked up one. His prehensile tail aided him in getting to hard to reach areas that Donatello would have created elaborate setups to accomplish. Kurt’s basic knowledge in electrical helped as well. Donatello didn’t have to explain to him how to connect raw ends of the wire or how to configure circuits. Chatting with Kurt as they worked also turned out to be a pleasant experience.

The task sill took multiple days, even with two bodies working on it. Michelangelo often pestered them. Donatello had no way to get the exuberant turtle off their backs, yet Kurt somehow managed to smoothly guide him away every time. Donatello didn’t know his secret to dealing with Michelangelo, but he was about to ask for advice. Don already felt like he was holding on to too much, and Mike was pushing the tide over. Kurt somehow kept it all at bay with a smile across his face as he did so.

Kurt tapped Michelangelo on the shoulder with his tail, grabbing his attention. Michelangelo looked up with swimming eyes, but he didn’t move from his spot on the floor. Kurt offered his hand and his characteristic grin. “Mein Freund, I believe that I made you a promise?”

Mike squinted at him as he fought to remember this promise. The process of thinking proved too difficult for him to do anything else, such as take Kurt’s hand. “What?” he asked none too brightly.

Kurt wiggled his hand to bring attention to it. “Have you forgotten already?”

Michelangelo’s eyes transferred to Kurt’s hand, allowing that little bit to click into place. He accepted Kurt’s help in rising to his feet. “I – ohhh!” Mike shouted with widened eyes. A plotting grin materialized across his face. “Yeah, I remember now.”

Donatello looked between the two of them with dismay. Don didn’t like the look on either of their faces.

Kurt let go and stood back once Mike was on his feet. “Lead the way forward, Mikey,” he said. Michelangelo did so, bounding off to a place lacking of other turtles. Kurt followed on all fours. Donatello further worried for the remaining mutants’ sanities.

“Don’t mess around with me, Michelangelo!” he called. Donatello was fairly certain his words fell on deaf ears. “Remember I’m the one that restored power! You owe me!” Of course, Donatello didn’t believe that Michelangelo owed him anything. If it awarded him a get out of Mikey’s plotting free card, however, it was worth a shot. 

Mike slowed once he and Kurt reached the kitchen. The room would eat the sound of their voices before it reached the main lair, where everyone else mingled about. It was the perfect place for planning the perfect prank. “Alright,” Mike said seriously. “You promised me a great prank. I give you the task of pranking Leo. It’s almost impossible.”

“Okay, I have something to admit first,” Kurt said. He grabbed a chair, spun it around, and squatted down comfortably.

Michelangelo narrowed his eyes. “You’re not backing out on this promise of a prank for a prank, are you?”

“No, absolutely not,” Kurt said quickly. “But I don’t necessarily need to see yours. I’m sure I’ll see quite enough of it.”

Mike sniffed. “Fine. Pretty rude.”

“Na-ah. That isn’t the case. You’ll teach me hands on while I’m unaware. It’s a challenge.”

“Okay, I’ll accept. That’s not what you wanted to admit, is it?”

Kurt shook his head. “You remember me telling you that I’m a teleporter, oder?”

Michelangelo nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I guess I’m not here.” Kurt settled his chin on the back of the chair. “I don’t feel a connection anymore? I’m not sure how to describe it. We always figured back home that I teleported through another dimension where the atmosphere is sulfur and brimstone rather that nitrogen and oxygen because every time I reappeared, it came with smoke and a smell that bothered everyone. But now that I don’t have my power or connection to this dimension, I don’t feel a constant, light _pull_ to it. Teleporting is kind of a part of my identity. I’m feeling a little dismayed without it. At first, I thought it was my concussion. My head won’t be exactly right for a while yet, but I don’t think that’s the reason anymore. My thoughts are more clear and organized. I can concentrate. And I still can’t teleport.”

Mike was silent. He didn’t move a muscle through Kurt’s explorative monologue and continued the trend once Kurt stopped talking. “You know, I can’t fix that,” Michelangelo said. “I read all sorts of superhero comics, and they’re awesome, but they don’t tell you how to fix stuff like that.”

Kurt lifted the fingers of one hand off the chair. “I’m not asking anyone to fix it,” Kurt said. “I have a couple theories I might run by your brother, but it’s not the most important thing. I bring it up because it’s … dispiriting.”

“So you’re gonna run around all depressed like?” Michelangelo guessed.

“No.” Kurt lifted his head up again and sniffed. “I try very hard to not bring those around me down. Those are my struggles that only one may help me with. What you may take out of this, however, is that my power to teleport plays a large role in much of what I do. And I am still processing this loss, so I do ask that you have some patience with me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Kurt shrugged. “Pranks are not always best planned out,” Kurt explained. He glossed over Mike’s confusion to his confession. “They’re often little displays of affection through less than friendly means, am I wrong?” Michelangelo shook his head vigorously. “Sometimes, a grand act is best planned. And it sounds like this one we’ll pull on Leonardo will be one of those. Leo likes control. People that are accustomed to control and lose it through a simple prank often switch to angry, and not in a fun way. We need to avoid that.”

Mike nodded with enthusiasm. “Yeah, yeah. Raph’s easy to get and his angry is predictable and funny. Leo usually just ignores what I do, though,” he added with a little more gloom.

“Okay. And you’re not looking for some quick, low level prank. You can’t pull the chair out from under him as he sits or hide something of importance when he really needs it.”

Mike furrowed his brow. “I never tried anything like that,” he admitted in a low voice.

Kurt snorted. “You call yourself a prankster?”

“Excuse me,” Mike barked.

“How is Leo’s tolerance for hot stuff?” Kurt asked with an impish grin. Michelangelo, after a hesitant second, smiled back.

The two conspired with hushed voices, pausing only when Raphael walked by and tossed them a befuddled glare. Soon, they planned out a multi-step prank and were set to the task of gathering the ingredients. Michelangelo practically floated as he exited the kitchen and made his way over to Splinter. Kurt hung back, trying not to give the impression that they had finished conspiring.

“Master Splinter,” Michelangelo whispered over the back of the couch. Splinter remained comfortably sitting on the couch, his eyes glued to his television program he revered watching each week. “I’m gonna take Kurt up top to visit April, okay?”

Splinter cast a sidelong glance at Michelangelo’s subservient position. “Is this visit of importance?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Splinter couldn’t help the dejected look cross his face. “Do not cause her troubles, Michelangelo,” he warned.

“With Kurt hanging with me? Wouldn’t dream of it.” He held back the maniacal giggle that threatened to break the peace, but could not nothing about the wiggle of energy the simple permission caused. Michelangelo skipped away from Splinter to Kurt waiting in the middle of the lair. “We’re good to go,” he stage whispered with uncontained excitement.

“Fantastisch,” Kurt said.

Michelangelo led the way out of the lair, oblivious to the looks his brothers threw him as the entrance door admitted the pair of benign evil doers. Michelangelo guided Kurt through the maze of darkened sewer tunnels, taking them the fastest way to April’s apartment. Michelangelo didn’t lie to Splinter. Mike and Kurt required April’s help in finding key ingredients to their devious plan.

When Michelangelo knocked on April’s apartment door, and April answered the door with only mild confusion, he was gifted with a wide range of her emotions within seconds. First, April recognized Michelangelo and was briefly happy. Then, she caught sight of Kurt standing behind Michelangelo and she was confused once again. Soon, the confusion turned to a little, distraught scream and a step backwards. Kurt didn’t have the friendliest of appearances, even when he smiled.

“April – he’s a friend!” Mike insisted. He stepped through the threshold and grabbed her by her upper arms. “He’s with me!”

April eyed Kurt with suspicion, but allowed Mike to placate her.

“My name is Kurt. Kurt Wagner,” Kurt said with a small bow.

“April,” she said. “What are you supposed to be?”

Kurt pulled his brows together. “Entschuldegung?”

“He’s a superhero from another dimension,” Michelangelo explained. “He’s a little less super here, but he is helping me with a big task. We kind of need your help, too, April.”

“What? What task?” April asked. She didn’t bother trying to pull away from Michelangelo, but allowed him to hold her arms as if he was supporting her from falling. April’s concern didn’t seem to be that Kurt hailed from another dimension, but that he looked different than she was used to. As Michelangelo talked, she even seemed to get over that quickly enough. April needed only a moment.

Kurt walked into the apartment and shut the door behind him. “In exchange for good behavior while Don and I rewired their home, I promised Mikey a prank of all pranks. A prank on Leo.”

“No.” April took another step back and gently pulled control of her arms away from Michelangelo. “I cannot take part of pranking Leo.”

“Aw, c’mon, April,” Michelangelo whined. He threw a peeved look over his shoulder at Kurt. Kurt wasn’t supposed to explain their goal in visiting April. “We can’t go shopping and we need specific ingredients that we can’t just find in the trash. We promise we won’t tell Leo how we got everything. He probably won’t even ask! He’ll just try and kill me. It’ll be okay.”

“Why do you encourage this?” April asked Kurt. She placed her hands on her hips and pulled a believably grumpy expression.

“Why not? Life is made of interactions, and interactions are for the purpose of reactions. We seek amusement in Leo’s reaction.”

April rolled her eyes and then squeezed them shut. She brought a hand up to her forehead. “Teenagers,” she muttered.

“I haven’t been a teenager in years,” Kurt contradicted with good nature.

“That makes it even worse,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“I didn’t get to live my teenaged years as a typical teenager,” Kurt explained shortly.

Michelangelo chuckled. “Yeah, dude. That’s pretty relatable.”

Kurt smiled thinly in Mike’s direction, but it didn’t carry to his eyes. April caught on to a hidden discomfort and interceded on Kurt’s behalf. “Why should I do this for you?” she demanded.

“I suppose I could go shopping,” Kurt said. “No one would question a demon in spandex walking around the aisles.” He feigned innocence, but he would try to pull it off. April eyed Kurt with suspicion, gauging his willingness to follow through. “I could do tricks in the street to raise the money. I can pull off incredible human-like tricks as well as mutant tricks. We’re only asking for a few, simple things. It wouldn’t take long to have enough.”

“I could do chores for you while you’re gone!” Michelangelo insisted.

April threw a hand to her chest, startled by the offer.

“Yeah, yeah! I can dust the shop or vacuum the carpet in your apartment. Or does the shop need sweeping?”

“Your wish is our command,” Kurt added.

April pressed her lips together, looking between the two with an internal debate clear in her eyes. “You will dust the shop with cleaner and sweep and mop the shop while I’m gone. If you break anything, I’m taking it out on you, understand?”

Michelangelo reached out and grabbed her close, hugging her with careful tightness. “You got it! April, you’re the best!”

April patted Mike tenderly on the shoulder. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Michelangelo pulled away, grinning widely. “I’ll write up a list of things we’ll need for this,” Kurt said. “It’s small. Nothing expensive. I truly apologize for being a financial burden. My offer for street performing to raise the funds is still on the table.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” April said. She eyed Mike. “It won’t be the first or the last time I help these guys out.” She brightened. “We’re family. It’s what we do for each other.”

“I’m not family,” Kurt said.

“You’ll be surprised how quickly you can get pulled in,” April said. She didn’t mean it ominously, but rather kindly instead. “I’ll get a pen and paper.”

As April disappeared to find them those items, Michelangelo once again turned to Kurt. “You know spandex is old school,” he said.

“It’s not spandex,” Kurt said. He smiled genuinely. “I can’t say exactly what the material is made of, but it’s designed to be lightweight and durable. It holds in body heat exemplary, as well as a list of other benefits that I can’t remember off the top of my head. My favorite feature is that the fabric is breathable so that we don’t sweat in it, but it’s waterproof so that when we get wet, I’m not soaked. I don’t know how it does that.”

Michelangelo remained silent for a moment. “It’s still a cool look. You look good in red. Much better than Raph.”

April returned, brandishing a pen and notepad. Kurt thanked her and made her the list he’d promised. April read it with suspicion. “I know where this is going,” she said.

Michelangelo beamed brightly. “It’s good, right?”

April closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to Leo.”

“That’s the thing. It’s perfect for him!” Mike exclaimed. “Like, if this doesn’t get a reaction, I dunno what will.”

“He won’t be happy.”

“That’s part of the point, is it not?” Kurt asked.

April shook her head again. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised. “My shop better be clean when I come back, boys!”

Michelangelo let out a long breath once April left the apartment. “You’re amazing,” he told Kurt.

Kurt tilted his head. “I am?” he asked. He was fishing for the compliment; Kurt lived off of compliments.

“You just convinced her to do the impossible. You’re a word ninja.”

“Now we must make up to that promise,” Kurt said. “Show me this shop.”

Michelangelo offered no complaint as he made good on their promise to April. They split up the work evenly and even accomplished April’s tasks by the time she reappeared through the shop’s side door.

“I’m impressed,” she said. “From what I can see. It is still dark.”

Kurt shrugged. “You know how it is. Dark exterior, light interior. We may as well have gone out ourselves if we turned on the lights.”

April handed the paper bag of products to Kurt as she continued inspecting the room. “I guess I’ll really see how nice everything looks when the sun’s up again,” she said.

“I assure you, it’s more than satisfactory.” Kurt nodded his head in thanks. “I appreciate you doing this for us.”

“Remember – this doesn’t come back to me,” she said.

Michelangelo balked at the tone in her voice. “Nope,” he squeaked.

“We should start heading back. Mikey and I have a lot to do tonight in preparation for tomorrow morning. It was nice meeting you, April,” Kurt said.

April smiled. “I’m sorry for my initial reaction. Even after meeting the turtles and Master Splinter, I guess I’m still not used to seeing new …” April trailed off as she searched for a proper word.

“Mutants?” Kurt offered. “One becomes accustomed to it after a lifetime.”

Michelangelo massaged his neck sheepishly. “I guess that’s why Master Splinter tried keeping us from going topside when we were young. We wouldn’t have understood why people freaked out when they saw us.”

Kurt moved toward the exit door. “You’re lucky,” he agreed. “Thank you again, April.”

April watched after them as they left. The most prominent thought that came to mind was that a mutant could be raised presumably from public eye and still be taught manners. Then again, Splinter’s excuse was that he had been teaching the boys ninjutsu and that was a difficult enough task. April couldn’t imagine another mutant ninja falling into the clan’s lap. Michelangelo had called Kurt a superhero. Ninja weren’t meant to be superheroes.

“Are you capable of keeping quiet about this until everyone falls asleep?” Kurt asked as they neared the lair entrance. Kurt hadn’t remembered the route Michelangelo wove him through, but he had a decent sense of how long they’d traveled.

“Are you kidding?” Michelangelo said. He turned around to face Kurt and bounced from foot to foot, somehow keeping his footing and keeping pace with Kurt’s march. “I couldn’t ruin this! I annoy my brothers,” he added with a sudden decrease in enthusiasm. “I can’t help it sometimes. So there isn’t much that I can do that they’ll notice something different, ya know?”

“Mikey,” Kurt said. He tried using a more serious tone to jar him into listening and listening well. “They love you. Your family bond is obvious. I’m sure they notice more about you than you realize.”

Michelangelo shrugged and turned back around. “I know we’re tight. I think I notice more than they think I notice, actually. They treat me like the kid brother sometimes, but unless I’m like I can’t _stop,_ I read the situation pretty good. Sometimes my brain just _goes,_ though, and that’s kind of where I get in trouble.” Mike stopped and tapped on a pipe. The entrance to the lair. “When they try brushing me off or whatever, I don’t take offense. I get it, I just can’t stop. That’s what I mean. I’m not, like, going emo on your or anything.”

The two stepped into the lair, rushed by the lighting Kurt and Donatello had finished fixing earlier in the day. Kurt paused to blink sight back into his eyes.

“So you want me to take that to my room? I can make it so that they don’t notice. You make up a story if they ask. I’ll pick up on it later. We only gotta keep up the joke ‘till tomorrow morning anyway.”

Kurt handed over the paper bag to Michelangelo, allowing him to bound off with his insurmountable energies. Kurt entered more slowly, taking in the other turtles’ routines. Raphael attacked a dummy with hands and fists. His fork-like weapons remained sheathed on his belt. Leonardo sat reading. Donatello wasn’t visible, nor was Splinter.

As Michelangelo predicted, avoiding questioning by the remainder of his family proved simple. Kurt was certain that carrying out the last step to their sinister plot wouldn’t prove as easy.

Kurt waited until the entire family turned in for the day. He didn’t have to try hard to feign sleepiness, but he was on his feet once he was sure no one would notice him moving about. Much to his surprise, Kurt finished the task within minutes. Donatello’s preparedness for any situation was Kurt’s friend. The rest was up to Michelangelo.

And Michelangelo – he performed.

Michelangelo had to be sure that Leo was still asleep when he began. In fact, waiting for an appropriate time to wake Leonardo up was difficult for the hyperactive turtle. Mike wanted results and he wanted them immediately. When Kurt came up to tell him that the remainder of the plan fell on him, Michelangelo couldn’t have been more ecstatic. He bounced immediately to his feet and grabbed the ingredients from the paper bag.

Before long, Michelangelo made his way into Leonardo’s room. Navigating Leo’s room wasn’t easy. Mike had a light on to provide subtle illumination at all times. Donatello had an alarm clock providing just enough red light to get an idea of where things were. Leonardo’s room was as dark as the lair had been for the couple days previous to the prank’s execution. To compensate, Mike had Kurt carry a flashlight under the cover of his fingers outside of Leo’s door. Just enough refractory light to be accurate.

Sneaking up to Leonardo’s bedside, Mike placed a glass of water on the nightstand tabletop. He brandished a small bottle and leaned over his slumbering brother. Michelangelo felt the wickedness rise up within, spilling out with a crazed grin. Mike uncorked the small bottle and poured the contents into Leo’s mouth.

Leonardo didn’t immediately stir. He didn’t move until Mike gently pushed his jaw closed to better disperse the contents of the bottle within his mouth. It was at that moment that Michelangelo’s anticipation came to a head and the events cascaded on.

Leonardo blinked, rolled over onto his side, and then quickly pushed himself into a sitting position. Michelangelo booked it out of Leonardo’s room, throwing himself to the opposing doorway from where Kurt stood. Mike tossed Kurt an overexcited look, his eyes threatening to bug out of his head.

“What the – ” Leonardo said. He shuffled again, his feet tapping onto the floor. “Michelangelo!” he shouted.

Michelangelo, for his part, remained silent, at the expense of his bodily health. He crashed quietly to his butt and rolled over onto his shell, holding in every laugh for as long as he could.

Leonardo yelled out frantically. He reached to his bedside, his hand connecting with the glass of water Michelangelo planted. Mike heaved with silent peals of laughter. Leonardo, realizing his mistake in chugging the water, spit it out without any finesse. “Michelangelo!” Leonardo screamed louder. Leonardo threw himself out of his room and caught sight of Kurt before he did Michelangelo.

“You!” he shouted. Leonardo’s voice was enraged, but also tight with pain.

“That’s my cue!” Kurt said. Letting go of the lenses of the flashlight, Kurt threw himself off the second story ledge. He ditched the flashlight as gently as he could, allowing it to roll its own way as he took off on all fours to a dark corner.

Leonardo turned to Michelangelo, whom no longer tried containing his crying screams of glee. “Michelangelo!” Leo shouted again. He reached out to grab hold of his brother, but Michelangelo flipped himself to his feet before Leonardo could land a finger on him.

“Nah-ah-ah,” Mike taunted. He wiped away tears from his unmasked eyes. Leonardo lunged again, growling, and Mike dodged again. Before Leonardo could get a hold of a more stationary form, Michelangelo followed Kurt’s suit and made his way through the kitchen into the bathroom, where their final surprise for Leonardo waited.

“I’m going to kill you when I get my hands on you!” Leonardo raged. Leo jumped, sprung back to his feet, and entered the kitchen for a proper cup of water. Except, when Leonardo turned the knob to turn on the water, and was met with dry pipes. Leonardo whipped around, setting his shell roughly against the edge of the counter. His mouth burned from the hot sauce Michelangelo poured into his mouth. It wasn’t regular hot sauce, either. Mike had somehow found the hottest substance Leonardo had ever met in his life. Leonardo’s face hurt from the acute spice and tears ran freely down his face, unhindered by the lack of fabric across his eyes. The heat only worsened with whatever tangy liquid Mike placed on his bedside table.

“Did you get Donnie in on this, too?” Leonardo called out. Leo couldn’t think of any other reason for the water to be turned off in the kitchen. The only place left was the sink in the bathroom. Leonardo dashed inside the bathroom, bee lining for the sink. It, too, was dry.

“Da hell’s goin’ on down here?” Raphael’s voice carried around the doorways. He sounded sleepy and grumpy.

Leonardo’s eyes turned to another cup of liquid balancing on the edge of the sink. Michelangelo placed it there, no doubt. The liquid wasn’t clear, but Leonardo couldn’t tell what color it was with the lack of light.

Raphael flicked the light on to the bathroom and stood in the doorway with arms crossed. “Leo, what’s yer problem?”

“Michelangelo,” Leonardo said. He had both arms braced on the edge of the sink as he leaned over it dramatically. Leo couldn’t help the drool running down his chin into the drain as he eyed the mysterious liquid. “Michelangelo,” Leonardo repeated, louder than in response to Raphael’s question. “What is this, Michelangelo!”

Raphael eyed Leonardo skeptically. Donatello soon joined him in the bathroom entry. “Care to explain?” Raphael offered Donatello a confused shrug. Don’s guess was as good as Raph’s.

“If this kills me …!” Leonardo threatened as he let go of the sink with one hand and tightened his fingers against the glass. He poured the contents of the glass into his mouth and nearly gagged it immediately back up into the sink. The liquid was bitter and strongly sour. Citrus, but of what type Leonardo didn’t know. Somehow, despite the disgusting taste and burn of the new liquid, it did negate some of the hot sauce’s burn in Leonardo’s mouth. Leonardo swished it around as long as he could and spit it down the sink drain.

“O Fearless Leader,” Donatello said, “you’ve been duped good.” He turned around, unwilling to be around once Leonardo gathered his wits. Donatello would willingly watch from the sidelines, but wanted no part in it firsthand. “Glad Mike didn’t do anything to me. I really worried about that for a while.”

Raphael leaned more heavily on the door frame, tilting his head to the side in his amusement. “These ain’t his usual antics, huh?” he commented.

“Shut up, Raph,” Leonardo growled. Leo couldn’t stop the panting or the excessive spit building up in his mouth.

Michelangelo burst into more cackling laughter from the other side of the shower curtain, unable to hold them in any longer. Both Leonardo and Raphael turned their eyes sharply in his direction, but only Raphael added a sadistic smile. Leonardo growled again, pushed himself off the sink, and darted across the bathroom to grab a hold of his brother to show how him how much he appreciated being the butt of his prank. Michelangelo screamed dramatically and took off before Leonardo could seize him, as before. Unfortunately Raphael braced himself in the threshold, the same sadistic smile still on his face, and refused to let Michelangelo by. Raphael wouldn’t be the provider of just punishment, but he’d still enjoy watching as Leonardo collected his revenge.


	6. Chapter 6

Leonardo collected his four charges on a rooftop as the colors changed dramatically from night to dawn overhead, aided by the glowing city lights. Michelangelo had since forgotten about Leonardo’s wrath, having suffered the consequences the morning of, but Kurt still feared for his immediate safety. Raphael didn’t serve to placate Kurt’s worries. He laughed every time he noticed Kurt staring in Leonardo’s direction. Kurt had seen Leo’s fury, knew that Leo knew that Kurt had been in on the prank, and he hadn’t heard anything about it since. Kurt liked getting over things quickly rather than waiting for the consequences and he knew Leonardo would think of consequences.

“This is a normal training run,” Leo said. His eyes skimmed over the four mutants, stopping on Kurt. “If you can’t handle it, stop, stay in one place, and we’ll come back for you later.”

Kurt couldn’t hold back the spike of offense. His face spoke for him. A corner of Leonardo’s mouth perked up in amusement.

“No funny stuff,” Leonardo added. He directed this mostly at Michelangelo before he turned to add his piece for Raphael. “We’re here to stay in shape rather than to spar. Kurt isn’t Casey.”

“You know, I can hold my own,” Kurt said with impatience.

“Quiet,” Leonardo barked.

Kurt leaned in to Donatello and whispered, “I guess this means that I don’t get a sword.” Donatello rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Michelangelo tapped his chin. “Ya know, I’ve noticed the mobsters are getting all antsed up lately. Maybe we can throw a real superhero at that.”

“No,” Leonardo deadpanned.

“No, think about it! All you have against Kurt is that he helped me get you good, right? He’s a superhero! Don’t superheroes go after bad guys? That’s what they do.”

“Well, it was more other mutants,” Kurt said. “We didn’t actually seek out trouble.”

“Training run,” Leonardo repeated. “No trouble.”

“C’mon, bro, quit yer yappin’ an’ start runnin’ or _I’ll_ be the one leadin’ this run,” Raphael said.

“You don’t usually start our runs with such preface,” Donatello added.

“You really are just acting bitter,” Michelangelo said.

“What?” Leonardo demanded sharply. “I am not!”

“Yeah, sure, keep tellin’ yourself that,” Raphael said. He dashed off, throwing himself onto the building and onto the next. “Let’s go, guys!”

Donatello shrugged one shoulder at Leonardo before he followed after Raphael, matching his exuberance. Michelangelo and Kurt took off at the same moment, perfectly executing the jump and leaving Leonardo behind in his flustered state.

“Guys, I’m serious!” he called after them. Leonardo growled and hastened to follow the group he was meant to lead.

Raphael set a brisk pace without worrying about any flowery movements to spice up the run. Raph wanted to make Leo sweat. To exacerbate his frustrations with everything else. It was hardly a funny joke, but it felt so satisfying to catch glimpses of Leonardo scrambling behind the group with what little decorum he could maintain.

Michelangelo offered no words of complaint. Somehow the group’s little ball of sunshiny energy still managed to throw in a couple superfluous flips and handsprings while easily keeping pace with Raphael. Kurt, Raphael noted with surprise, also fell into the group’s formation with ease. The mutant switched from a four-legged run to a bipedal run as often as he felt necessary, launched himself off of walls and water towers, and climbed high places to execute showy somersaults in the air. Kurt laughed as he moved, clearly enjoying his free time outside, as well as all the obstacles the city had laid out in front of him.

Donatello struggled, visualized by the utter look of concentration on his face as he ran. Leonardo eventually overtook Don’s position in the group, and Raphael had to slow the pace as Don started to fall behind. Michelangelo and Kurt didn’t mind the slower pace, and ended up showing off their agility to each other with the added freedom. Feeling a little lighter and freer than normal, with no ominous battle weighing in on his mind, Raphael also joined in the fun.

Kurt, noticing Leonardo’s distinct lack of joy, did his best in running forward while paying attention to Leo behind him. “Why so glum, mein Freund?” Kurt asked. He felt the picture of innocence. Leonardo growled, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge Kurt’s question. Kurt slowed until he ran side by side the field leader. “I realize that you haven’t figured out a way to deal with your emotions considering my part in the prank on you,” he said. “And that’s fine. But you really shouldn’t take it out on the rest of your family.”

Leonardo snarled and turned fully to Kurt, slamming into a halt. Kurt stopped as well, lashing his tail side to side in anticipation of what Leonardo had in store for him. The other brothers, realizing Leonardo’s stop, eventually circled widely around the pair. “I can’t even begin about how disrespectful that stunt was,” Leonardo said.

Kurt tilted his head to the side. “Was it disrespectful?”

Leonardo stepped forward, craning his neck upwards to continue looking Kurt in the face. “You’re a guest in our house. Yes.”

“So that’s why you’re over Michelangelo’s part in it,” Kurt said. “I apologize. I knew that you would take it personally, but I didn’t realize it was disrespectful.”

“That’s not good enough.”

Kurt raised his brows and chin in mild surprise. “No? What more can I do for you? I don’t want to come across as inconsiderate or rude. Just a mild bother, at most.” Michelangelo sniggered.

Leonardo turned his side to Kurt and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

Raphael barked a sharp laugh. “Leo, you ain’t exactly the best mutant for lettin’ words do the actual talkin’.” Despite what Leonardo said. Despite his incessant lectures. Leonardo always resorted to physical fist regardless.

Donatello turned quickly on Raph. “Your methods are hardly – ”

“Shut up, guys,” Leonardo said.

“Will throwing a punch make you feel better? You prefer no resistance, evasion, or I try my best to retaliate?” Kurt eyed the hilts to Leonardo’s swords strapped to his shell. “I don’t know how you’d best like this resolved, but I’m ready to move on.” Teenagers and their grudges. They were so temperamental. Kurt knew that he was taking power from Leonardo by pulling an elaborate prank, but he figured that he’d have moved on within a day.

Leonardo squeezed his eyes shut, grit his teeth, and turned his face down. Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael exchanged glances.

“Do something to make yourself feel better!” Kurt shouted. “Feeling is important! Push past the angst, man!” Kurt ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t know what else he could do besides leaving the confused turtle behind. “Speak!”

Leonardo turned back to face Kurt with quick ease and jabbed a finger into his space. “You should have thought about the consequences of your actions before you did it,” Leonardo seethed.

“It was hot sauce!” Kurt screeched in defense.

“It was more than that!”

“Lieber Gott im Himmel,” Kurt muttered as he rolled his eyes to the sky. “Get over it.” He leaned in, holding his face inches away from Leo’s. “Your ego isn’t worth it.”

Leonardo reached out to push Kurt away, but Kurt slid away before Leo could land a hit.

“Yeah? Is that how grown adults deal with their problems?” Kurt goaded. “They bury them under angst and punch anyone that gets in the way?”

“Um, Kurt,” Donatello said from the sidelines. “What are you doing?”

“He’s the life of the damn party,” Raphael replied. His eyes were held wide. He didn’t understand why Kurt was pushing Leonardo into confrontation, but Raph enjoyed the show.

“Excuse me, bro, but I believe that’s my role,” Michelangelo argued.

“Not anymore, Mike,” Raphael said.

Leonardo held an offensive pose, holding one side of his body closer to Kurt, providing a smaller target. He kept his balance shifted forward in anticipation.

“These kinds of emotions will be the death of you,” Kurt scolded. “You need to get a handle on them before you leave yourself irreparably wide open. You’re hurting? You’re confused? Too bad. Deal with that on your own time in healthier ways.”

“I’m capable of dealing with my emotions on my own without your help,” Leonardo snapped.

“Au contraire. Your actions now are the living proof to the falsity of that statement.” Kurt waved him forward. He kept his expression neutral, neither thrilled nor pestered. “Get it out now.”

Leonardo dropped his stance, landing heavier on his toes and dropping his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned, hissing air through his teeth. “You’re right. I’m holding a grudge and you’re pushing me in every way you can think possible.” Leo couldn’t keep a steady voice, but Kurt admired his trying.

“I’m trying,” Kurt admitted.

Raphael and Donatello stared wide-eyed at one another for a moment before drinking in the drama unfolding theatrically before them. Leo snapping on anyone but Raph was unprecedented. Raphael felt thrilled at witnessing the event.

“Why?” Leonardo growled. “Is this some sort of game?”

Kurt flashed a smile. “Partially. Partially not.” Kurt opened his arms by his side, facing palms upwards. “Admittedly, my humor is often at the expense of others. But that wasn’t the goal post-prank. You have a lot of anger inside, mein Freund.”

Leonardo’s expression closed up.

Kurt twitched his nose and switched to another tactic. “I did wonder how a circus acrobat could measure up to a ninja. I’m almost disappointed I didn’t get to test my mettle.”

“Maybe some other time,” Leonardo muttered.

“Is that a promise?” Kurt asked with a flutter to his eyes.

Raphael stepped forward and clapped Kurt across the back. “If Leo’s too afraid, I won’t be,” he said.

Leonardo opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Donatello: “I’d laugh myself silly if this fight ends with you as furious as Leo.” Don smiled dreamily. “It’s easy to imagine.”

“So are we done training now?” Michelangelo asked. “’Cuz I could totally head back home and binge on some snacks. I’m starving. Aren’t you?”

“Mikey, you know they make real food, right?” Don asked.

Kurt watched the brothers resume their typical banter, Leonardo hanging off on the sidelines. Kurt no longer felt as if he was in danger from some spontaneous attack, but he didn’t feel as if he’d alleviated every tension he had a hand in. “That’s all you turtles have?” Kurt asked. He looked between every brother.

“Whaddya mean?” Raphael grunted.

“I mean, you take one stroll across the rooftops and you call yourselves done?”

“What? Do you weight lift some trucks, too?” Mike asked sarcastically.

“This isn’t all we do,” Leonardo said. “It’s just a good way to let off steam.”

“I think ya outdid yerself, Fearless Leader,” Raph commented.

Leonardo sneered at Raph in response. “Funny.”

“Good to hear,” Kurt said. When the turtles were on a roll, they didn’t stop talking. They had a tight dynamic that Kurt admired. “I still have plenty of energy I need to get out.”

Leo thumbed behind him. “We still have to run back. We didn’t exactly make a circle.”

Kurt grinned. “Fantastisch.” Before any turtle could blink, Kurt took off with a powerful leap, leading the way back to where they’d started. “See you at the finish line!”

Raphael watched Kurt with widened eyes before snapping back to his thoughts. “Did he – ?”

Donatello nodded. “He did.” He stirred into action, concentrating beforehand on the best path forward with the smallest amount of expelled energy. He’d noticed that he fell behind in the first run and he was determined to not let it happen again.

Michelangelo took off after Kurt. “Wait for us!”

“That defeats the purpose!” Kurt called over his shoulder. He climbed up an old antennae with a couple bounds, clinging to the surfaces with unnatural ease. “You must catch me!”

“I am _not_ going to be behind this time!” Leonardo called. He forced a smile upon his face and leaped to the next building, laying on the speed.

Raphael grinned, still feeling the excitement from seeing Leonardo squirm, and used the energy to his advantage. Playful competition was just as fun as seeing Leonardo getting knocked down a peg. The activity was the same as before, but now the goal was slightly different. Leonardo still didn’t lead, but neither did Raphael. Raph didn’t care one way or another if he was the one to reach their starting point first, so long as it wasn’t Leo. He’d like the look on Leo’s face. Kurt was no Casey, Leo said, but he proved to be just as exciting to have around.


	7. Chapter 7

Kurt bounded after Mike, chasing him as he rolled around on his skateboard. Michelangelo had speed on the blue mutant, but he didn’t have agility, considering his dependence on the wheels. The two were hardly quiet, considering Michelangelo’s boisterous predisposition, but since Mike was out of the other brothers’ ways, no one raised an objection. After many years living with him, they had all learned to tune him out when he couldn’t keep a lid on it.

“I can’t believe it!” Michelangelo hooted. Kurt launched himself off of a pillar holding up the second floor in an attempt to tackle Mike off of his mode of transportation. He missed, but barely. “You’re keeping up better on foot than Leo can on a scooter!”

“I believe you’re remembering wrong, Michelangelo,” Leonardo called out. Leo felt in good spirits as he spotted Raphael on the bench.

“No, it’s definitely you,” Raph grunted.

Kurt didn’t offer anything by way of argument, but concentrated on catching Mike. As Michelangelo skated along the edge of the depression that made up the center of their lair, Kurt threw himself onto the higher ground, launched himself into the air, twisting with professional grace and control to tag Michelangelo without sending him flying off of his board. As Kurt landed, sticking it with a nimble upright stance, Michelangelo skid to a stop. He whipped around with a shocked expression. “No way, dude!”

“Way,” Kurt said with a wink.

Raphael remained oblivious to Kurt’s feat. Leonardo kept a neutral face, unfazed.

“You were going easy on me in the first round, weren’t you?”

Kurt grinned. “Maybe.”

“Well, maybe I was going easy on you, too,” Mike said.

“Yeah? Tag this.” Kurt dashed to the nearest pillar, scaling it as quickly as he’d run on flat ground. Once he knew that Michelangelo had no chance of catching him at any angle, Kurt stopped and sat, smiling down at him.

Michelangelo sputtered. “That is _not_ fair,” he complained.

“Really? I don’t remember you setting rules.”

“I didn’t know you could walk up walls!”

“Mikey, I think you’ve been beaten at your own game,” Leo said. “By the time you make it up there with shuko spikes, he’ll be long gone.”

“Stimmt,” Kurt agreed.

Donatello watched the shenanigans from the sidelines, having placed himself out of the danger zone not long before Kurt tagged Mike in their game. Don decided that while Michelangelo spun the rusty wheels of his brain, he’d ask for the favor he’d debated upon. “Kurt?” Donatello called.

Kurt leaned downwards, nearly upside-down against gravity. “Ja, Don?”

“Can I get your help in my lab, please?”

“Sure.” Kurt crawled fearlessly towards the floor. Once he reached a more manageable height, he kicked himself off of the brick, executed a tight and showy flip, and landed as neatly as before. No one could deny Kurt his physical prowess. Even the turtles couldn’t match his pure grace, opting more for effective brute power than showiness.

Donatello didn’t say another word until he was sure the two of them were alone without fear of interruption within his lab. “I need to talk to you about the portal,” Donatello said.

Kurt held up his hands defensively. “Know that technology like that is well beyond my scope of understanding. I am not an inventor. A mechanic at best.”

Donatello looked away sheepishly. “I guess I assumed … when we first talked about dimensional travel, and then you helped me with the electric … I thought you knew enough that you could help me build this. Fill in the holes that I’m only guessing.”

Kurt dragged a hand across the back of his neck. “My mutant power involves an alternate dimension. And my mechanical skills are most suited for a modified military jet or a practice room integrated with alien technology.”

“So you do undersell yourself.”

Kurt shrugged.

“You could say I’m just a tinkerer,” Donatello said. “It started as curiosity. Then it got … bigger. I provided the electric, the running water, the heating, and the transportation. All the land, water, and air transportation.” He pointed at the mess he hadn’t quite gotten to cleaning up in the corner of the lab. “But I am not a quantum physicist.”

Kurt bit his lip, holding it with one of his fangs. “Remember the first day, where I said that I’m not pressuring you. Your brothers told me the things you do to yourself for others. Don’t do that for me. Of course I miss home, but – what is the phrase? It is what it is?”

“You can’t really be fine with getting stranded here,” Donatello said. He turned sharply, disengaging himself physically to better disengage emotionally. If Kurt wasn’t lying to him, then maybe Kirby wasn’t lying, either. “Life is bittersweet,” Kirby wrote. Kirby created the world that he was stuck in, most likely found a home with the other inhabitants with his magic pencil and paper. Donatello directly caused both of these lives to be disrupted.

“Listen you,” Kurt said. He placed a hand on Donatello’s shoulder. Don jumped and turned his head enough to watch Kurt out of the corner of his eye. “I mean what I say. I’ll help you as best as I can to find your friend, and if I find a way home on top of it, I’ll go home. I know I’m missed there, but losing someone sometimes, especially in battle, is the life of an X-Man. Verstanden? Logan – Xavier will realize I’m gone and not coming back and the team will move on. And here I’ll make my new life.”

“We’re going to need to go up top to a junk yard to find supplies,” Donatello said. Kurt set his lips in a line, unsure if Don processed any of the words he just said. “It took me months to find everything I needed before, and it’ll probably take longer this time, but I’ll make it happen.”

“Donatello.”

“Maybe I got something wrong in my notes. While I’m collecting, maybe I’ll redo all of the calculations and compare them all to see where I might have made a mistake.”

“Donatello,” Kurt said. He added a slight shake to Don’s shoulder.

“What if it wasn’t my calculations, but the power source?” Donatello mused to himself. “I should think about how much energy this will need on a closer look.”

“Donatello!” Kurt all but shouted.

Donatello turned his head sharply.

“Stop it.”

“Wh-what?”

“Are you doing this to yourself because you feel guilty? Or because you’re sure Kirby is waiting to be rescued? Is there no one else you can lean on?”

Donatello blinked. His expression read blank. “Guilt? Why would this be about guilt?”

“I’m not sure how this could not be about guilt,” Kurt admitted. “You’re biting off more than you can chew, you’re citing your role in my and Kirby’s whereabouts, and you’re not asking for help.”

Donatello gestured sharply through the wall towards his brothers. “Do you really think I have anyone to ask for help?” he asked.

Kurt took a breath to steady himself before he escalated the conversation any more. “I can see why you feel that way,” he said. “But have you thought about how your brothers feel? They don’t know why you’re sequestering yourself away.”

Donatello swiped Kurt’s hand off his shoulder. “It’s better that way,” he said. “When I don’t, Mikey gets in my way. And Leo nags. Raph’s really the only one that – ”

“Leaves you alone?” Kurt finished.

Donatello’s mouth hung open. “It’s easier to concentrate when they’re not breathing down my shell.”

“It’s easier to neglect yourself when they’re not breathing down your shell.”

“That’s an unfortunate side effect,” Donatello argued. “I don’t punish myself because I feel guilty.”

“But do you feel guilty?”

Donatello stared at Kurt out of the side of his eye and crossed his arms over his plastron.

“Is your non-answer a yes without saying the word?”

“You know, if you’re not going to help me, I can figure this out on my own. I can let you know when everything’s in working order.”

“Donatello, please. Can you promise that if you feel yourself slipping – in any way – you ask for my help? Maybe I do know more than I think I do, having worked with Shi’ar technology. I won’t know your equations, but maybe I can help you with the physical piece.” Kurt wasn’t going to talk Donatello out of the project. It wasn’t necessarily that Kurt wanted to do that, but he wanted Don to take care of himself while he worked on it. Pushing the turtle away, especially by trying to insert himself too hard, was the exact opposite of what Kurt was trying to do.

“Yeah, thank-you,” Donatello said. His voice suggested that his thoughts were far away. “I’ll come get you when I’m ready to go searching for parts in the junkyard, okay?”

Kurt smiled wanly. “Danke schön, mein Freund.”

Donatello nodded, and Kurt left the room.

Leonardo quickly intercepted Kurt before he made it too far across the lair. “He’s okay, right?”

Kurt nodded hesitantly. “For now.”

“Do you … do you think there’s anything I can do?” Leo asked.

The corners of Kurt’s mouth pulled down. “At the moment, I suggest to give him space. I can see why you worry about him. He’s intense.”

Leonardo’s fists balled up at his sides. “He’s usually better – back to being Donnie, ya know? – when he finishes a project.”

“His project wasn’t finished. It backfired in his face,” Kurt said.

“What _is_ he working on?” Leo asked. “He’s never been so secretive about what he’s working on before. Usually he’s ranting to us about things we don’t understand when he notices we exist, too.”

Kurt grimaced. “I’m not sure that it’s my place to say,” he admitted.

“Tch. So you’re a part of it.”

“Yes,” Kurt agreed with careful slowness. “I do believe he had a large part of my appearance here. He’s blaming himself, even though I insist that it’s a series of coincidences rather than his fault.”

Leonardo’s eyes darted from side to side, his brows pulled together. “So he … I don’t get it. You contradicted yourself.”

“No. There are subtle differences. You remember that I blamed a sentinel robot for transporting me here, using my teleport against me? I believe it was Donatello’s project that tapped into Nimrod’s alteration of my ‘port, acting as a grounding rod to receive me on the other end of the ‘port. Nimrod transported me across America before, temporarily disabling me from teleporting again. This time I didn’t as much go through space as I did, uh, a different sense of space.”

“I understood better before you explained.”

“Ah, good.” Kurt couldn’t help the quick sarcasm. “Do you have a way to get him to disengage? I guarantee he’s going to burn out if he continues as he is.”

Leonardo slowly lowered his eyes to the ground before shaking his head solemnly.

Kurt swore in a language Leo didn’t know, only recognizing it for what it was for the tone in Kurt’s voice. “I keep trying to tell him that I don’t place blame on him or even wish so much to go home that I place all of the weight of my return upon him, but it’s like he doesn’t hear what I say.”

Leo lifted his gaze and narrowed a single eye. “Do you prefer it here?”

Muscles twitched across Kurt’s face. “The other dimension is my home. I have good friends there. But, as I keep explaining, if this dimension were my new home, I have no bad feelings. I’ve had many steps in my life. I started my life as an orphan, then was raised by a Romani woman in a circus, where I was happy for many years. When I was no longer safe in Germany, an Amerikaner named Xavier found me and made me an X-Man. Two very abrupt changes in my life outside of my influence. Had I not followed Xavier to America, I would have been dead.”

“It sounds to me like you’re trying to justify this,” Leo said.

“While I have logical reasoning, I still have emotions. Despite our slight personal hiccup, you and your family have welcomed me openly. I know that I can move on. But I was happy back home with the X-Men also.”

Leonardo breathed in deeply, exhaling it slowly. “I’ll talk to Master Splinter,” he said. “I’ll see if we can come up with a way to slow Donnie down a little. And whatever you do, don’t mention to Mikey that you grew up in a circus. That’s begging for a can of worms.”

“Have I not already?” Kurt shrugged and raised the corners of his lips in a small smile.

Leonardo stepped away. “I’ll talk to Master Splinter and update you if we think of anything,” he said.

Kurt nodded once. “Danke.”

As soon as Leo walked away, Michelangelo materialized and grabbed Kurt’s attention. “Did they make comic books about you?”

Kurt blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt question. “No? We were treated as villains. Villains don’t get comic books.”

Michelangelo held up a finger and wagged it back and forth. “Not true, my dude. You know how Venom was a Spider-Man villain, but eventually got his own title?”

Kurt almost choked and leaned forward. “You have Spider-Man titles and you haven’t heard of us?”

Mike took a step back, unconsciously putting his hands between him and Kurt. “Yeah, he’s a big name title here. There’s also, like, the Avengers and Captain America – ”

“I’ve met them,” Kurt said. “All of them. How can they exist as comic books here, but you’ve never heard of the X-Men?”

Michelangelo’s eyes practically bugged out of his skull. His worry about Kurt’s forwardness immediately evaporated, replaced with intensely animated curiosity. “No way!” he cried. “You’ve met Spider-Man and Captain America?”

Kurt nodded. “Yes! The Avengers are our friends. We’ve helped each other out many times. That’s where I come from!”

“Oh,” Michelangelo breathed. His body writhed with energy. “I can’t believe it! This is almost as exciting as when we found out the Justice Force was real!” Michelangelo’s eyes inexplicably grew even larger. “Maybe we can convince the other guys to go on a road trip to where you live! Maybe they’re really all real here, too, like the Justice Force!”

Kurt felt a small surge of fear. He felt as if he’d released a caged animal by feeding into Michelangelo’s fantasies. “Okay, okay, slow down a moment,” he said. “I admit this explanation is enticing, but we need to slow down.”

“No, don’t you get it?” Mike cried. He clenched and released his fists as he struggled to contain himself. “This is for everyone that thought I was just a comic book geek that was wasting my time. Maybe I’ve been reading documentaries!”

“Ah, I doubt it,” Kurt said.

“Look, we just gotta get Leo on board, right? And then Donnie. ‘Cuz Donnie’ll figure out some way to get us to where you live. Ah! Just to think about getting out of here! Feeling the fresh air! Meeting even more super heroes!” Michelangelo let out a small scream of excitement, his fists waving before him uncontrollably.

Kurt was too afraid to reach out to try and physically ground him. “Maybe we should try looking up some things about this first?” he suggested.

“Okay, you don’t think I’d have thought about that?” Mike demanded. “The Justice Force was a comic book, and anything else about their missions was buried by fan theory and stuff about artist and writer styles and whatnot. What would make your hero outfit any different?”

“I live an hour north of the city!”

“So? We’ve gone to Northampton just to find me a comic book before. And Casey has a farmhouse in Springfield that we’ve driven to a couple times. That’s, like, way longer than an hour!”

“What are we going to do when we get there and realize the mansion doesn’t exist?” Kurt demanded. “The group of us are supposed to get a hotel and stroll around the town like tourists? Let me ask you this – have you had any real evidence of the Avenger’s existence? Of the X-Men’s existence? The Avengers are based in New York City and whenever the X-Men are in town, we tend to accidentally level buildings.” Like the night Kurt was pulled into the turtles’ dimension.

Michelangelo paused. “Well, no. But it’s not like I knew the Justice Force was real until we met them.”

Kurt dug the palm of one hand into his forehead. The emotions these brothers experienced were incredibly intense, and Kurt felt like it was a chore to dissuade them from anything once their minds latched on to something. “Okay. What if I don’t want to ride up there to see if this is all a misunderstanding?”

Michelangelo took a step forward, uncomfortably close to Kurt, and stared him dead in the eyes. “You mean you’d like to stay with us?”

Kurt grunted. “I mean that I know the X-Men don’t exist here. I can feel that I’m out of place. Ja? I can’t handle driving out of the way to confirm that.”

Mike deflated and stuck his hands on his hips. “Alright, fine. We’re just convenient to you.”

“No! I don’t mean to only use you! That is not my intention.”

Mike grinned. “Just jokin’ with ya.”

Kurt stared at him with an unamused expression clear across his face. Michelangelo was slowly learning Kurt’s buttons and he was intrigued in learning more about them. Kurt acted more smoothly than any of his brothers and was a little harder to push than April or Casey. Yet he wasn’t as unflappable as Splinter.

“So you plan on staying a while, right?” Mike asked.

Kurt’s brows picked up. “Yes.”

“Good. ‘Cuz we haven’t even started with all the fun things we can do. I still got so much to show you.”

“Perhaps some other time?” Kurt suggested. Kurt thought that he’d enjoy another person that was hyperactive, yet even he felt a little worn out. Kurt really missed Logan. Logan could keep up with Kurt, even surpass him in many physical aspects, but they could easily settle down and have a good, relaxed time as well. The turtles didn’t know the meaning of relax.


	8. Chapter 8

“I heard you wanted a little action in yer life,” Raph said. Kurt sat on the broken down armchair in the living area of the lair, reading one of the books he’d borrowed from Leonardo. Leo’s tastes were a tad drier than Kurt would have preferred, but it did give his brain something to do.

Kurt looked up from the pages, but didn’t close the book. “You did?”

Raph shrugged and spun on his heel. “Alright, maybe I didn’t hear nothin’. But I see you bouncin’ around like a clown with Mikey, an’ I know yer eyein’ Leo’s swords. Why don’t we go up top an’ you can prove yerself like you wanna.”

Kurt sat up a little straighter. “Are you challenging me?”

Raph shot him a grin. “Yup.”

Kurt snapped the book shut and set it on the arm of the chair. “I get a sword?” Wielding a sword wasn’t a tie breaker as to whether or not Kurt would stay with the turtles. The mere presence of swords proved to be a tantalizing allure, however. While Kurt lived with swords at home, having one mounted on his bedroom wall should he ever feel like playing pirate again, living around powerless mutants that relied on weapons really brought the yearning out of Kurt.

“Look, yer surrounded by ninja. I can get ya a sword, no problem.” Kurt jumped to his feet. “But we can’t have Leo knowin’,” Raph added.

Kurt eyed Raphael suspiciously. “Why?”

“’Cuz he’s a downer, trust me. I already got us a plan ta get outta here without Leo questionin’ us. We got five minutes ‘till Leo starts losin’ his shit.”

Kurt had no room to physically back up, lest he walk upon the chair, so he bent his knees enough to shrink his height a couple inches. Fight or flight. “This doesn’t come to me as a sound plan.”

Raph laughed once between his teeth. “Believe me, it’s sound. Ya in or ya not? Kinda need to know whether I’m nabbin’ ya a sword or not.” Raph grabbed the handle of one of the sais on his belt. “Kinda pretentious, a sword, innit?”

“Kinda brutal and personal, knives, aren’t they?” Kurt shot back.

“They ain’t knives. They’re sais,” Raph said.

“They’re fancy knives.” Raph grunted, but didn’t try to argue further. “I’m in.”

Raphael turned around, surveying the atmosphere around them. Donatello was missing, as was becoming typical yet again. Michelangelo sat at the edge of the second floor with a stack of comic books by his side. Leonardo ran through katas in the middle of the lair. “Alright. We have extra weapons on a rack near where we practice. We can grab a sword from there.”

Kurt followed Raph’s gaze. “Leo is right there.”

Raph nodded. “Yup. So we gotta employ a classic ninja art of distraction. Which will be here shortly.”

“Are there no better ways of distracting Leo than angering him?” Kurt asked.

“Yer askin’ the wrong question. There’s no more entertainin’ ways of distractin’ Leo than makin’ him mad. Ya gotta think it through. Leo don’t like us goin’ up top, ‘cuz Splinter don’t like us goin’ up top ‘less we gotta. Sure, he’s been a lot better ‘bout it these past few years, but Leo’s always gotta know what we’re doin’ an’ where we’re goin’. _Unless_ there’s an obvious reason ta why we’re leavin’. I asked Casey ta come down here, annoy Leo, an’ he’ll let me go up top an’ think it’s _his_ idea. While Casey’s doin’ his job in pissin’ Leo off, I grab a sword for you an’ we book it outta here.”

Kurt couldn’t help but regard Raphael like the absurd crazy man he came across as. “You might have just asked.”

Raph threw Kurt an incredulous look. “No.”

“I’m sure it would have been much simpler to ask.” Raphael’s explanation of Leonardo being a “downer” didn’t quite strike it as a strong enough reason to go through this kind of effort.

“Ya know how Leo was givin’ you the cold shoulder after you an’ Mikey got him with the hot sauce?” Raph asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“That’s kinda how Leo’s like to me unless we’re on mission,” Raph explained. “An’ frankly, we ain’t had nothin’ ta do in months.”

“Ack, consider yourself fortunate,” Kurt said.

Raph grinned crookedly. “Nah, I love bashin’ skulls in. Love the thrill.”

Kurt blinked as he processed the abrupt similarities between Raph and Logan. He didn’t have too much time to consider, however, as the entrance to the turtles’ lair opened and revealed a taller, muscled man. That must have been Casey that everyone had mentioned.

“Leo!” Casey shouted. “You seen Raph around?”

Leonardo chose to ignore Casey, completely avoiding eye contact without missing a beat in his katas.

Unperturbed, Casey strode forward into Leonardo’s practice area and reached for a random weapon on the rack. “So why’s it you guys always use the same weapons over and over?” Casey asked. “Don’t cha just love switchin’ it up, pickin’ the right tool fer the job?”

Leonardo stumbled to prevent himself from slamming into Casey, though only offered him an annoyed glance.

Raph snickered from where he stood. He knew that Casey could see him, but he had asked Casey to be the distraction, and the man was very good at doing just that. Playing dumb wasn’t too difficult for the intellectually challenged.

“Why ya always practicin’ the same stuff?” Casey continued. He raised the axe-like weapon to shoulder height, brandishing it in Leonardo’s direction.

Leo eyed Casey out of the side of his eye, grimacing as the fact that he’d have to handle Casey head-on settled in.

Casey swung the axe widely in Leonardo’s direction. Leo dodged the swing with ease, but his expression of annoyance deepened. “Watch it, Casey!” Leo snapped.

“Alright, we’re gettin’ ta the good part,” Raph rumbled. He left Kurt standing in the middle of the living area as he stalked around the periphery of the lair, nearing the weapons rack Casey was slowly leading Leonardo away from.

“Way I see it, ya do the same thing every day, you can’t prepare fer the next wacko,” Casey said. Casey adjusted his grip on the axe’s hilt and swung it around again. Leonardo pulled a sword from the scabbard on his back, engaging the large, heavy axe head. Raphael poured in a little more speed to his gait, as Leonardo’s full attention forcefully pulled from the personal workout to making sure Casey didn’t accidentally kill him.

“I think I can handle myself just fine,” Leonardo said through gritted teeth, “without your help.” Leo shifted the angle of his blade and threw the weight Casey applied to the axe head toward the ground.

As Leo’s back was turned, Raphael quickly snatched a sheathed sword from the very same weapons rack and dashed quietly towards the door before Leo saw him in the area. He shifted the sword until it disappeared behind his back. “Yo Case!” he called.

Casey, still unbalanced from Leonardo’s shifty move, looked up with excitement. “Raph!” he called back. Casey straightened up and swung the ax around to settle it on his shoulder. “Raph an’ I are gonna go up top.”

“That’s a good idea,” Leonardo said in as neutral as a voice as he could muster.

Casey’s eyes eventually swung around to where Kurt stood. “Whoa! There’s another mutant down here with you? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I did tell you, bonehead,” Raph said. “He’s comin’ with us.”

Leonardo flicked his gaze between Raphael, Casey, and Kurt with a healthy dose of suspicion. Deciding it wasn’t a battle he was willing to fight, he reached out toward Casey. “Give me the masakari,” he demanded.

Casey looked at the unfamiliar weapon he held in his hands before handing it over to Leo. Leonardo grabbed it and sheathed his katana in one movement. “At least we do train,” Leonardo said over his shoulder as he eyed Casey with distinct mistrust.

Casey began walking over to meet Raphael, but paused a moment to defend himself. “Hey! I do train! Just not like you guys.”

Kurt bounded on all fours around the lair’s edge until he caught up with Raphael. Casey, having no response from Leonardo, soon joined them.

Michelangelo leaned over from his perch on the second floor. “You all have fun making yourselves tired,” he said. Leonardo rolled his eyes at Mike’s comment and disengaged.

Raphael grinned and turned, whipping the sword around him to continue hiding it from Leonardo’s eyes. “Piece’a cake,” Raph said at a barely audible level. He then opened the door, allowing the three of them to leave. As soon as the door shut behind them, he handed the sword over to Kurt. “Told ya it’d work.”

“It’s not that I doubted you,” Kurt said. Kurt tested the weight and balance of the sword, trying to estimate the weight of the scabbard, in his hands. “I don’t understand why you must make it so elaborate.”

Casey shrugged. “It’s more fun that way.”

“Bettah be careful, Kurt,” Raph said, “or we’ll think yer as uptight as Leo.”

The trio emerged into a nearly abandoned warehouse, save for a few pieces of heavy machinery. Kurt eyed the pieces with passive observation. Their style of build screamed Donatello, from what little Kurt knew of the turtle. Each piece was carefully constructed with obviously reused pieces, welded and tacked together into a rather impressive display. Nothing really shone, save for smaller motorcycles, but almost everything wore battle scars. The machines were perfect reflections of their owners.

Raph grinned at Kurt as he ogled over their pets. “Like what ya see?” he asked.

“They’re impressive feats of engineering,” Kurt said.

“Anyway, we don’t need those today.” Raphael padded toward the warehouse door and lifted it a couple feet up. “We’re goin’ on foot on the rooftops tonight.” Casey, without any prompting from Raphael, threw a bag he’d been carrying over his shoulder under the door and rolled after it. Kurt pulled himself away from the various modes of transports and popped out on the other side of the door into the fully abandoned street. Raphael followed within seconds.

“Rooftops?” Kurt asked. Before either Casey or Raph had the chance to respond, Kurt dashed across the street and hastily climbed the wall.

Casey stopped in the middle of picking his bag of sport equipment from the ground where he’d chucked it. He craned his neck upwards to follow Kurt’s upward path. “What the – ”

Raphael chuckled. “Heh, he does that.” He donned his shuko spikes, wiggling his fingers to make sure that they fit properly against his palm. “See if ya can’t keep up, Case.” Raph left a dumbfounded Casey on the sidewalk as he sprinted across the street and followed Kurt’s path up the brick wall. He had to rely more on his arm strength than Kurt, who clung with hands at feet, but he still managed to keep pace with the furry blue mutant.

“Whoa – guys! Not cool!” Casey shouted when he regained his wits.

Kurt blew a raspberry in Casey’s direction from the rooftop, adding a little wave to further aggravate the man he hadn’t yet quite met. Raph squeezed his eyes shut to forcefully keep a laugh from dislodging him from the wall. As soon as Raphael grabbed the corner angle between wall and roof, he gracefully flipped up to his feet and squatted on the edge.

“What’s takin’ ya so long, huh?” Raph called down.

Casey sputtered. “I’m gonna get up there and kick yer ass, Raph!” he threatened.

“Yeah?” Raphael said. “Big words from someone who hasn’t moved yet.” To add a sense of urgency, Raphael gracefully backed away from the drop and out of Casey’s sight. Laughing a couple more times to himself, Raphael then turned to Kurt. “You really wanna test out that sword?”

Kurt hopped off the concrete ledge that circled around the rooftop to face Raphael. He couldn’t help the excited energy. Sparring Kitty in the Danger Room, dressed up like pirates, was a completely different level compared the exhilaration of facing off against a trained ninja. Kurt hadn’t seen Raphael’s prowess in a fight firsthand, but he’d seen enough from the brothers to piece together an inkling of Raph’s capabilities. Raphael was on Logan’s level of capabilities, and Kurt never bested Logan, try as he might.

“I actually have no experience with a sword of this type,” Kurt admitted. Raphael cocked his head, engaged. “I have handled swords of European decent that are designed for single-handed use. This is a Japanese sword designed for two hands.”

“Ya know, Leo handles them one or two handed,” Raph pointed out.

Kurt nodded to acknowledge Raph’s input. “They are of about the same weight.” Kurt unsheathed the katana from its saya, and delicately placed it on the ground where it wouldn’t get bothered. “But the balance is much different.” Kurt gripped the tsuka in his right hand, slowly waving the blade through the air to get a feel for how it balanced. As he swished it around, his movements became faster and more structured, almost like one of Leo’s katas. Raphael watched with patience, gauging his possible sparring partner. Raph didn’t grab Kurt a practice sword, but a real, sharp katana. While Raph was certain that Kurt wouldn’t purposefully harm him, he didn’t know Kurt’s actual level of knowledge. Soon, Kurt tossed the katana in the air, spun quickly, and grabbed the tsuka with his left hand. He repeated the movements with his left side, adding in some footwork to go with his practice swipes. Casey finally emerged from the nearest fire escape when Kurt refocused back on Raph.

“Good?” Raphael asked.

Kurt nodded, a smile spreading across his face. “Definitely.”

Casey balked, skidding to a stop. He couldn’t see past Kurt’s façade, that of a dark blue demon with a sword and wicked grin. Mutant turtles and a rat were one thing. Something from popular western religious theology as the manifestation of pure evil was another. “So, uh, what’s the plan, guys? Now that I bailed ya outta the sewers.”

Raphael turned so that he was facing neither Kurt nor Casey, but so that he could easily see both parties. “Kurt here’s been beggin’ fer a sword. Donnie mentioned it, but we never brought it up to Leo.”

“Why?” Casey asked.

“’Cuz Kurt kinda pissed Leo off,” Raphael snickered. Casey switched his wide-eyed gaze to Kurt, too stunned to question how or why. “I thought it’d be kinda funny ta get him a sword behind Leo’s back, which means we needed ta leave the lair.” Raphael thumbed over to Kurt. “Now I get ta see what he’s made of. You in, or just gonna watch?”

“You know I’m always up for a fight,” Casey started, “but …” Casey hesitated. “Ya really … where’d this guy even come from?”

“An explosion in Donnie’s lab,” Raph said.

Casey’s mouth fell open. “Yeah, y’know, I’m jus’ gonna make sure ya don’t get nothin’ chopped off, alright?”

Kurt placed his free hand on his hip and thrashed his tail behind him. New person, but same story. No one, unless they shared Kurt’s pain of a constant spurn, trusted Kurt on looks alone.

Raphael shook his head as he turned his shell on Casey again. His hand reached for a sai tucked in his belt, and he held it firmly by the handle. Raph positioned the dagger before him, his other hand on the other sai’s hilt. “I guess it’s just me seein’ if yer all what you think you are.”

Kurt locked eyes with Raphael and offered him a friendly smile. “Understand, I have never had any formal training in swordplay. I only wish to have a little fun.” Kurt shifted his feet and raised his elbows in preparation for Raph, but he continued to hold the sword a little awkwardly, unsure of how to best hold that particular style of sword.

“Do what feels natural,” Raphael suggested.

Raphael sprung forward, striking out with a sai. Kurt sunk lower to the ground, stepping aside with one foot to dodge the immediate attack and blocking Raphael’s wrist with his free forearm. Raphael let his arm slide off, simultaneously twirling the sai in his other hand to butt the pummel into Kurt’s stomach. Rather than try to move out of his way, Kurt caught Raph’s hand with his tail, wrapping the appendage twice around Raph’s wrist. Raphael twisted, holding the trapped wrist in place and exposing his shell to Kurt. He aimed to reverse roundhouse kick Kurt off-balance at chest height. Kurt quickly let go of Raph’s wrist, throwing it violently away, and dropped to the ground in a neat splits. As Raphael’s foot touched ground, Kurt sprung lithely back to his feet and pulled the sword diagonally upwards across his body. Raphael leaned backwards to avoid the blade, and then reached to swat the trajectory of Kurt’s arm further. The added momentum made Kurt lose his grip and the blade flew.

Kurt didn’t feel any worry at being disarmed. He didn’t lose a beat. Raphael paused, expecting Kurt to call the fight quits, and was baffled by Kurt launching himself off the ground, hands outstretched to catch Raph by the shoulders, and use him to flip into the air. Deepening his stance to balance himself, he could do nothing when Kurt straightened midair and kicked him firmly in the shell, sending him flying forward. Kurt landed smoothly in a position that would have been uncomfortable for most, low to the ground. Raph planted a foot firmly, pushed all his weight off it, and shifted the sai between the fingers of his hand for a bladed punch. He didn’t expect as much fight out of Kurt as he was getting and frustration at himself mounted within.

Sitting still until the last possible moment, Kurt fell quickly into a supine position, grabbed Raphael’s fisted hand as it flew over his head, and used his feet to push up on Raphael’s plastron. He used Raph’s forward momentum to flip him onto his back, as well as land himself on his feet in a crouch. Raphael carried Kurt’s parry into a smooth somersault. He stood for a moment, knees bent, before he ran forward again with his bladed fist, punching out widely. Kurt took a step back, standing taller for a better range of motion. As Raphael carried through with the punch, Kurt spun to elbow Raph in the back, realizing too late that a blow to the shell wouldn’t faze him as it would any other opponent Kurt was used to.

Growling in the back of his throat, ignoring Kurt’s hit, Raphael twisted to strike Kurt with the bladed end of the sai he still held by the tsuka. Kurt ducked and sidestepped to avoid the attack and stay out of Raphael’s follow through, despite pushing himself further away from the sword. Raphael carried through his spin, winding up a punch with the sai held between his fingers. Kurt stepped back again to avoid. In a rhythm, Raphael spun again, shifting enough for a solid snap kick. As Kurt watched Raphael’s body language, he positioned himself just enough to avoid the kick, grab Raph by his ankle with both hands, and Raphael’s other ankle with his tail. Kurt simultaneously pushed Raphael’s airborne foot and pulled his grounded foot, sending him crashing to the ground in an unceremonious lump.

Using the time wisely, Kurt launched off of Raphael’s haphazard form and grabbed for the katana. Whipping around, brandishing it awkwardly before him, he steadied himself just as Raphael lumbered to his feet and charged in Kurt’s direction.

Raphael no longer tried holding back for Kurt. He switched his grip on both sai, holding on to the tsuka and brandishing the prongs before him. Raph swung wide, leading with the sais, and Kurt only halfheartedly deflected. Raphael proved to be stronger than Kurt expected, and Kurt’s unfamiliarity with that particular sword type and his unwillingness to accidentally hurt Raph made him give up on the katana entirely. Raph’s fighting style was too close for it to be effective for Kurt.

As soon as Kurt dropped the katana to the rooftop, he tightly flipped backwards to give himself a couple seconds reprieve to regain his footing. Raphael threw himself closer, foot extended. Kurt easily dodged to the side, but didn’t calculate for Raphael to land, spin, and launch a roundhouse kick to Kurt’s midriff. Kurt fell in a heap and barely had time to collect himself before Raphael fell on him to finish the spar. Before Kurt could counter, Raphael slammed a fist beside Kurt’s face, having tucked his sai safely away to keep from harming him. He breathed heavily, much harder than Kurt, and it took him a moment to clear his expression from the intense battle to something more approachable.

Raphael slowly clambered to his feet, tucked his sai in his belt, and held out that hand to Kurt. “What’d you want the sword for?” he asked between breaths.

Kurt accepted the hand and allowed Raphael to pull Kurt to his feet more than actually putting in the effort to get up himself. Kurt underestimated Raphael’s sheer strength and the speed he could accomplish considering the bulk of his muscles. “My sparring partner doesn’t fight quite like you,” Kurt said. “You fight more like another one of my friends.”

“Gotta admit, ya got more spunk than I thought,” Raphael said.

“You had me on the defense the entire time,” Kurt said.

“You both move too damn fast,” Casey said from his perch on the other side of the roof. “We gonna go do some real work now?”

Raph huffed, a smile growing on his face. “Whaddya think, Kurt? Ready fer some fun? There’s always a Dragon ‘er someone runnin’ around.”

Kurt felt his muscles freeze. “A dragon?”

Casey snickered. “Purple Dragon’s the name’a one’a the street gangs ‘round here,” he explained. “They’re our favorite punchin’ bags.”

“Ja, sure,” Kurt said. He crouched down to grab the katana from where he’d ditched it. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely fell behind with the NaNo thing. Only about 8k words behind. Heh. But I'm forced into quarantine now, thanks to the US's lovely covid response, so now I get a writing vacation?


	9. Chapter 9

Leonardo looked sharply up as the lair door opened, emitting Raphael and Kurt. “I need to have some words with you,” Leonardo said. His voice carried effortlessly through the lair.

Raphael and Kurt exchanged glances. “Which one’a us?” Raph asked.

“Both,” Leonardo answered. He held out his hand. “The katana, please.”

Kurt smiled sheepishly, feeling no humor in the moment. Crossing the room slowly, he placed the sheathed weapon into Leonardo’s palm.

“I suppose this was Raph’s idea,” Leonardo said.

Raphael grumbled and shuffled his feet, fully intending on ditching Leo before he could launch himself into a lecture.

“I assure you, it was a combined effort,” Kurt said.

Leonardo narrowed his eyes and Kurt, but couldn’t hold the look for long. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded of Raphael.

Raphael spun around. “I don’t need ta listen ta ya yellin’ at us, O Fearless. I already know what yer gonna say.”

“So why do you do it?” Leonardo demanded.

“Because harmless acts don’t require punishment,” Kurt said. Leonardo jumped like he’d been bitten. “Mein Freund, may I ask what has been damaged in this case? Must every detail be run by you or you treat your brothers like defected soldiers?”

Raphael studied Kurt standing up to Leonardo, torn between impressed and the residual anger from Leonardo’s prompt confrontation.

Leonardo held up the katana, flashing it in Kurt’s face. “Stealing this behind my back, creating a diversion to do so – ”

“Was exactly what you were trained to do in life,” Kurt finished for him, speaking over the words Leonardo truly meant to use. “Am I not right? I have limited knowledge of ninja, but I believe diversion is a large part of your tactics.”

Leonardo held his mouth agape. “It’s disrespectful.”

“You use that word again,” Kurt said harshly.

Leonardo fished for words to make his stand upon. He came up with nothing concrete.

“I don’t think you’re on the same page in regards to respect as your brothers,” Kurt said. “Understand that Raphael used his training, he thought out a plan and executed it well, to get a hold of that sword. I think you should be proud of him, as the leader of this group, nicht wahr? He applied his assets as a ninja while sensitively attending to the wishes of those around him. He was fully aware of how you would react, Leonardo.

“Raphael acted not with disrespect. In fact, I believe it’s quite the opposite. I understand I’m overstepping my welcome again, and I apologize, but I cannot watch you lay into your brother on these terms.”

Leonardo remained silent, though his fist slowly closed over the katana’s saya as he lowered it in front of him. Raphael laughed once, looking between the two poised before each other. “Damn.”

“Raph, go,” Leonardo said. His voice held no emotion.

“Was already on my way,” Raphael replied. Raph turned, broke into a trot to reach the fire escape stairway to the second lair, and climbed it with unconventional ease.

Kurt took a step back away from Leonardo. “I’m very sorry to keep quarreling with you,” Kurt apologized softly. “I truly mean you no disrespect. I feel you’re overwhelmed and I’m adding to the sense.”

Leonardo dropped his stiff posture and padded over to the weapons rack, carefully placing the katana back where it belonged. “You’re definitely not helping,” Leonardo agreed. He motioned for Kurt to follow him to the mats the family kept on the ground and sat on his knees. Kurt followed, sitting on his rump with his legs folded in front of him, tailing holding everything together.

“You seem to think that I have a lesson to learn and I’m too dense to learn it,” Leonardo prompted.

Kurt shook his head. “A lesson? No. Mein Freund, to lead you must be in tune with those whom you are leading.”

“That sounds like it’s a lesson,” Leonardo observed flatly.

“Ack. Excuse me. It’s not even a language barrier. I just don’t know what this all stems from. I don’t have arguments with anyone like this. I’m not a mediator. This position I keep finding myself in is not my natural dynamic.”

Leonardo looked at Kurt skeptically.

“Really!” Kurt insisted.

“So you’re insinuating that I’m a shitty leader.”

Kurt buried his head in his hands. “No. Leo, I don’t want to be at odds with you. Verstanden? Is something, besides me acting the asshole, burdening you? Please let me help. I am not a destroyer.”

Leonardo leaned forward. “You really just want to be friends with everyone,” Leo snickered.

Kurt picked up his face to rest his chin on the palms of his hand. “In short, yes.”

“So by befriending my brothers and strengthening your bond with them, you have to go up against me.”

“Both with Mikey and Raph, that was not the initial intention.”

Leonardo held up a finger. “With Michelangelo, that was the whole point.”

Kurt flashed his teeth in a quick, mock smile.

“We’re brothers, we’re teenagers, and we probably react a little too strongly … a lot,” Leonardo said. “It’s valiant of you to defend them. But that’s our dynamic. Sometimes a little push, sometimes a little pull.”

“That’s, uh, probably not the healthiest,” Kurt pointed out.

Leonardo shrugged and leaned back into a straightened position. “Well, so long as you’re done going through my brothers and somehow pitting them against me, because the only way you’ll do that with Donnie is by pushing him into his neglectful death, maybe we should work on getting along a little better now.”

“I have not pitted them against you!”

“No, you’ve really only brought their worst traits out a little stronger. Mike’s inane obnoxiousness. Raph’s headstrong rashness. And my, uh, temper with it.”

“I don’t believe Raph’s elaborate plan categorizes under ‘rash’,” Kurt said.

“He’s reckless and usually thoughtless in doing so. Going forward, we’ll be _on the same page_ now, right?”

Kurt blinked and wrapped his arms around his legs. “And what page will that be, mein Freund?”

“For starters, not going behind my shell?” Leonardo suggested. “My brothers used you to get to me, but now we’ll understand each other.”

“I did have a lot of fun with both Mikey and Raph,” Kurt pointed out.

“Yeah, the joke with Mike was hilarious,” Leonardo deadpanned. “But what did you do with Raph?”

“Well, I didn’t test out the sword like I wanted,” Kurt said. “Though I did learn that he’s a very formidable foe. Then it was a run over the rooftops. Nothing else.”

Leo scoffed. “He was looking for trouble.”

“Yes.”

Leo lifted a brow at Kurt’s quick honesty. “How did you measure up to a ninja?” Leonardo asked.

Kurt grinned. “Not any worse than I would have against my friend from home, Wolverine. I believe that Raph was a little faster and a lot fancier than my friend, but his strength and tactics were on the same level. He won.”

“Raph is the most direct out of the three of us,” Leonardo said. “The rest of us only get fancier.”

Kurt laughed, “Ja? So you’re saying that out of the four of you, Raphael is the one I least have to worry about?”

“No,” Leonardo said quickly. “We’re all deadly, if we chose to be. Raphael uses strength and ferocity. He doesn’t, say, play with his food.”

“You do?”

Leo smiled. “When I can get away with it.”

“That’s incredibly formidable.”

“Anyway, you’re probably tired,” Leonardo said. “But I’m glad we could sit down and talk.” Leonardo clambered to his feet. “If you’d like, once you’re rested tomorrow, I can run by some swordplay tips with you. Consider it our one-on-one.”

“My problem is that I’m more familiar with European style swords,” Kurt said as he bounced into a standing position. “While a rapier and a katana are of similar weights, that’s about where the likeness ends.”

Leonardo shrugged. “So I’ll teach you how to handle a katana. Maybe test your abilities myself while I’m at it. If you’re really interested, we could have Master Splinter sit in and hand out pointers, too.”

“No, that’s quite alright,” Kurt chuckled. “I’ve never had a master anything teach me before. Except, maybe, in the circus.”

“Well, I look forward to sparring with you, if you’re interested.

“Sure, now you’d like to spar,” Kurt said.

“I had other things on my mind before!” Leonardo defended.

“Ja wirklich,” Kurt chortled. Kurt started to walk off, but Leonardo stopped him by grabbing him lightly by the arm.

“Wait, Mikey has something for you before you go to bed.” With that, he called Michelangelo’s name loudly across the lair.

Michelangelo appeared within seconds, as tightly wound with energy as ever. He shot forward to meet up with the pair standing in the middle of the lair. “Thanks, Leo!” Mike said.

Kurt found himself sinking into a flight stance, unprepared for the amount of energy Michelangelo constantly exuded.

“Okay, I got something up there to show you,” Michelangelo said to Kurt. “Meet me up there, ‘kay?”

Kurt threw Leonardo a look, as if he’d thrown him under a bus. Leonardo offered a noncommittal shrug and disengaged from the pair, walking off to the fire escape.

“What kind of thing do you have to show me?” Kurt asked Mike patiently.

“Just meet me up there,” Michelangelo repeated. He ran off, overtaking Leonardo before he even made it to the escape, and climbed it against its intended fashion.

Kurt breathed in deeply before he dedicated himself to Michelangelo’s plan, and scaled the nearest column to make it to the second floor. Michelangelo converged on him within seconds, grabbed his arm, and pulled him.

“What?” Kurt asked.

Michelangelo swung Kurt around, pushing him into a doorway. He reached around him and flicked on a light.

“I don’t – ”

“Leo and I cleaned this out for you,” Mike said.

Kurt looked around to see what ‘this’ really was. Michelangelo led Kurt to a room, mostly bare save for a mattress and a padded kitchen chair. The room bore the same resemblance as the rest of the lair, heavily decorated with cold stone and brick in the lair’s typical hexagonal shapes.

“What?” Kurt asked densely.

“This room,” Mike insisted. “We cleaned it out for you. See, we figured you were gonna be around for a while. ‘Cuz if Donnie summoned you or whatever in his earthquake, and the reason he’s not coming out is because he’s tryin’ to figure out how to put you back and it’s not going good, well, you need a better place to stay long term, right? We know that the couch and chair isn’t exactly the best place for guests to stay. LH didn’t seem to mind, but he’s a little different. And when April stayed with us, she took my room, but we knew she wasn’t going to stay forever. This lair is huge, dude, we just had to, like, figure out where to put you. So welcome to the family, Kurt.”

Kurt turned, putting his back against the nearest wall, to regard Mike. “I don’t really know what most of what you said meant,” he admitted. “But I do appreciate the gesture. You’re very kind.”

“Actually, it was kinda Leo’s idea,” Mike said. “But since Donnie’s gone AWOL in his lab, and it was Raph that somehow got you out of the lair long enough to do this, he roped me into it.”

Leonardo came up behind Michelangelo with a large grin across his face. “You like it?” he asked.

Kurt nodded. “I do. Thank-you.”

“Welcome to the family,” Leonardo repeated.


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt awoke with the intense feeling that he was being watched. He tried to shake it off at first, rolling with his eyes firmly shut as if to coax himself back to sleep, but the feeling didn’t dissipate. The hair pricked at the back of his neck and eventually he decided to confront the feeling by showing his brain that it was being delirious. His eyes, in fact, proved his brain correct.

Kurt shouted in his native tongue, gathering the blankets about his unclothed body, and threw himself against the wall, away from the presence. As soon as Kurt realized who the watching eyes belonged to, however, he realized that he’d grossly overreacted.

“You ready for another adventure?” Donatello asked. He sat with his shell against the far wall, his head leaned back against the shell’s ridge. His posture radiated exhaustion and Kurt was certain that his mask hid the dark circles that must have been present under his eyes.

“Uh, no,” Kurt said. “Nor are you, Donnie. Lieber Gott, what time is it?”

“Time – time doesn’t matter,” Donatello argued.

“Why are you sitting against the wall in a room I didn’t think you knew I have?” Kurt demanded.

“I figured it out quickly enough.” Donatello rolled his head forward. “I don’t need to be an active participant in everything to know things.”

“Okay, fair.” Kurt settled down into a comfortable crouch, still clutching the blankets over himself. “But why are you sitting against my wall? They didn’t clear out your bedroom for me, oder?”

“No, I have a room.”

“So why are you sitting in my room?” Kurt asked loudly.

Donatello flicked out a hand and held it there. “Because I’m taking you up top to the junkyard,” he explained. “Now.”

“No!” Kurt said. “You need to sleep!”

“No, no,” Donatello said. His voice adopted an aggressive tone and he pushed himself away from the wall so that he used his own muscles to sit. “You won’t tell me what I need, Kurt. You’ll help me with what I need.” He pointed with the hand he’d been holding in the air. “And if you tell Leo, I’ll kill you.”

Kurt’s eyes widened dramatically. “Entschuldegung? Okay, but seriously, you’re in absolutely no shape to leave the lair!”

Donatello laboriously pulled himself to his feet, using his staff he’d leaned against the wall beside him. “My call.”

“No! This is not your call! You’re not in any state of mind to make any calls!” Kurt rose, wrapping the blanket around his middle and holding it in place with one hand. “Donatello, if you make one move to leave this room, so help me God, I will knock you out.”

“I’ve had enough of that recently,” Don said.

“Ja, you and I both, I’m afraid.” Kurt strode over and delicately placed a hand upon Donatello’s shoulder. “Listen, I will gladly search for parts after you’ve rested.”

Donatello slapped Kurt’s hand away. “I don’t need rest. I’m on to something and I need to keep going.”

“It gives no possible way for you to be on to something!” Kurt argued. “Your brain is shut down, mein Freund. It cannot feasibly function properly with the amount of strain you’re putting upon yourself. Please, listen to me.”

“I’m not shut down. I’ve actually rested within the last twenty-four hours, thank-you very – ”

“Donatello, my offer to knock you out is still valid,” Kurt cut in. “No one has seen you leave your lab since about the time I accidentally appeared here. Please, I promise what you’re working on is not worth what you’re putting yourself through. We’ve been over this.”

Donatello scoffed and turned. “Why don’t you think I know what I’m capable of? The limits I can push myself to?”

Kurt set his lips in a line. “Because, despite your immense intellect, you’re still a stupid teenager.” Kurt grabbed Donatello’s staff from his fingers, easily whisking it away from the spent turtle. As Donatello turned to grab it back, Kurt used it to carry out his promise, dropping the blanket to use both hands to apply the right amount of force. Kurt didn’t want to seriously injure him, but he didn’t want him leaving, either. “Very sorry, my friend, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Slow footsteps warned Kurt to another presence. He had just enough time to pick up the blanket around himself again before a groggy Leonardo appeared. Leo stared at Kurt for a moment before his eyes flashed to an unconscious Donatello heaped on Kurt’s floor. Leo quickly looked back to Kurt, his unmasked eyes squinted. Kurt still held Donatello’s staff and he hadn’t moved a muscle since Leonardo stepped into his doorway.

“What’s going on here?” Leo asked. He sounded uncharacteristically calm.

Kurt grinned, though not out of humor. He felt as if he’d been caught red handed. Considering the circumstances, he really had been. “Uh.”

Leonardo slowly titled his head. “I’m really hoping it’s a simple explanation,” Leo said. While Leonardo didn’t have his katanas strapped to his back, he still had the presence of a lethal being.

“Donatello really, really needed sleep,” Kurt said. Kurt felt a sense of panic, like he needed to answer immediately and concisely.

“I knew that,” Leonardo said. He continued to stand patiently, refusing to look away from Kurt.

Kurt lifted the hand holding Donatello’s bo staff minutely before realizing that it was already doing something. Leonardo’s stare was particularly uncomfortable. Kurt wanted to squirm. “I – what more do you want?”

“The whole story?” Leonardo prompted.

Kurt blinked. “He woke me up, had an idea in his mind and wouldn’t let me talk him out of it. I gave him plenty of warning!” Kurt said in defense.

Leonardo closed his eyes and lowered his chin, breathing out slowly. “Just go back to sleep. I’ll take care of Don. Did you really have to hit him upside the head?”

Kurt shrugged dramatically. “It was the first thing that came to mind!”

“Tch. You could have shouted for one of us. Er – me.” Raphael was a heavier sleeper and required a little more than a shout to wake. Michelangelo, on the other hand, was probably already awake but unwilling to investigate the sounds of struggle.

Leonardo dropped down, grabbed Donatello by an arm, and draped it across his shoulders, using that leverage to carry him. He didn’t have a very long way to go to bring Donatello to his bed. “There are better ways of initiating yourself into a family,” Leonardo commented. Kurt felt off guard until he realized Leo was joking.

Leonardo left, half dragging Donatello along with him. Kurt remained standing with the blanket around his middle and Donatello’s staff in his hand. “Now what?” Kurt asked himself.

Flicking the light on to Donatello’s room awkwardly behind Donatello’s shell, Leonardo sent a flag out in Michelangelo’s direction. While Leonardo dumped Donatello gracelessly upon his bed and rearranged his limbs to lay comfortably, Michelangelo came up behind him, wringing his fingers.

“Doesn’t anyone sleep anymore?” Leonardo asked. He carefully took off Donatello’s mask and pads, setting them off to the side for Don to find later.

“Y’know, I do spend most of my night _trying_ to sleep, but not actually sleeping?” Michelangelo asked in return. “What happened to Donnie?”

“He had way too much freedom,” Leonardo answered cryptically.

Mike thought through the implications of Leonardo’s answered. “What?” he eventually said.

Leonardo turned and straightened. “We’re going to have to give big brain Donatello a curfew or something,” he muttered.

“That doesn’t exactly solve anything,” Michelangelo said. “I can really attest to that personally.”

Leonardo ran a hand across his face and stifled a yawn. “We’ll have to figure it out later. I would really like to use this time to sleep. Like a normal turtle.”

Michelangelo remained in the doorway, oblivious to Leonardo’s intentions even as Leo neared him and reached for the light switch.

“You could try sleeping again,” Leo said.

“Oh, sure,” Mike said. He turned for his room, halfway there by the time Leonardo extinguished Donatello’s light and stepped out of his room.

Much too quickly, Leonardo woke again, this time due to his internal body clock rather than shouting from across the lair. Leonardo passively checked in on Donatello and began his morning routine without thought. Raphael and Michelangelo continued to sleep, and Splinter left Leonardo unbothered. Kurt was the first to say anything to him at all.

“Last night –” Kurt said.

Leonardo held up a hand. “I heard enough.”

Kurt nervously looked up toward Donatello’s room before starting again. “May I talk to you somewhere more quiet?” he asked. His voice barely rose above a whisper.

Leonardo gestured about the lair. “What’s more quiet than this?”

Kurt lightly tilted his chin in Splinter’s direction. He hadn’t much interaction with him yet, and for some reason never tried to get to know him. For the moment, Kurt only wanted to confide in Leonardo and not some unknown entity, despite knowing full well he was the turtles’ mentor figure.

Leonardo looked confused, but lightly cleared his throat and towed Kurt away to a more discreet area. “What’s going on?”

“I’m concerned. Admittedly, I hardly know Donatello. We rewired the lair together, and he was pleasant to work with, and then he disappeared off the map. But the Donatello that came to me last night was not the good natured Donatello I worked with. He was much worse than when he even pulled me aside a few days ago, asking for help.”

Leonardo felt a heavy weight fall upon his shoulders. He breathed in deeply but found the air difficult to take in. “I still need to talk to Master Splinter,” Leo said and lowered his head. “He – he’s never been this bad before.”

“I know I told you that it’s not my place to share his secrets,” Kurt said. He grimaced. “But I hardly see a choice. If he continues like this, he’s going to kill himself. Or someone. Did you know that he threatened to kill me if I came to you?”

Leonardo stepped back, his eyes widening involuntarily. “He what?” Leo barked.

Kurt’s face contorted and he shrunk at Leo’s surprised ferocity. Before he continued, he held up two hands between the two of them. “I didn’t think it was very characteristic.”

“It’s against everything Donatello stands for,” Leonardo said. “He isn’t … “ Leonardo inhaled and swallowed – “Donnie doesn’t have the same frame of mind as the rest of us in a fight. Raph and I fight to kill; it’s the only way to stop our greatest enemy, and even then it hardly works in our favor. Mike’s weapons are destructive and he’s left unchecked in battle. Don’s calculated. His goals just aren’t the same as the rest of ours. I think if Donatello never had to battle again, he’d chose not to.”

Kurt bit his lip. “If I tell you what I know, will you promise to not overreact?” Leonardo didn’t move. “Donatello’s working on a interdimensional portal. I believe, in conjunction with Nimrod from my dimension and my mutant ability to teleport, Donatello’s portal is what brought me here. It didn’t survive the incident, but now that Donatello feels as if he’s the direct cause to two lives ending in their home worlds, he’s the only one that right these wrongs by rebuilding it.”

“That – that’s ridiculous,” Leonardo sputtered.

“Ja. I feel that, despite my arguing against it, that Donatello thinks that he needs to get me back home as fast as possible.”

“Well, that’s not quite it,” Leo said. “Don doesn’t exactly put down a project until once it’s finished.” Leonardo crossed his arms and grumbled. “Don should know that building a portal is next to impossible. The Utroms spent a millennia building their portal back home.”

Kurt shrugged. “I can’t help but feel indirectly responsible.”

“I – ” Leonardo cleared his throat again “- I really appreciate you telling me. It actually makes a lot of sense now.”

“Do you really think he planned on killing me?”

“No,” Leonardo stressed. “Diabolical tactic. Excuse me.”

Leonardo left quickly, making a beeline toward Splinter. Kurt bit his lip again, rooted to the spot. “ _Don should know that building a portal is next to impossible”_ rang through his head over and over. Kurt was stuck this time. Living with the turtles was his new home. He didn’t hate it with them, but he never got to say goodbye to any of his old friends, Logan, Ororo, and Kitty.

“Master Splinter,” Leonardo said as he approached the mutant rat.

Splinter quickly studied Leonardo’s face. “What can I help you with, my son?”

“Has … has Don come to talk to you lately?”

“No, I haven’t seen him in some time.” Splinter motioned for Leonardo to follow him to his room. Leo obliged, shutting the sliding door behind him. “I sense tensions have risen since the abrupt appearance of our guest.”

Leonardo sheepishly placed a hand on the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s mostly just me. There’s been a lot happening lately.”

Splinter sat upon a mat and watched Leonardo with expectation. “How may I aide you in this journey?”

Leonardo placed himself across from Splinter, but felt hesitation. Splinter had been distancing himself from the brothers, merely watching from the sidelines rather than applying himself by teaching them. They had been through a lot and didn’t require his guidance as constantly as they had as they entered their turbulent teenaged years.

“Don hasn’t really left his lab since before Kurt showed up,” Leo explained. “I tried to keep him engaged before, but it was like he wasn’t listening. I thought things would get better after the explosion and they were for a couple days. But now they’re worse than before. He won’t talk to us. He hasn’t left his lab in days. Except last night, he went to Kurt and even threatened to kill him if Kurt said anything.” Leonardo gripped his knees. “He’s asleep now, but only because Kurt knocked him unconscious.”

“Donatello has a habit of becoming stuck in his mind,” Splinter reminded Leonardo.

“I know. Even you had troubles getting him to practice sometimes, sensei.”

“Have you thought about why he’s distancing himself?”

“Well, Kurt just told me that the reason he’s been keeping to himself is because he’s working on a portal between dimensions.” His fingers tightened.

If Splinter felt any surprise at Leonardo’s answer, he didn’t show it on his face. “Your best course of action is to talk with Donatello.”

“I’ve already tried that, sensei!”

“Have you?” Splinter asked. “Or have you talked _to_ Donatello?”

Leonardo’s fingers released their tight hold on his knees and he sat a little straighter.

“You must listen to Donatello and not only hear his words, but the implications behind his words as well. He is going through a difficult time and you must be there for him, Leonardo. You four are a unit and must work in unison. Only then are you strong.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why he’s threatening – ”

“Is that not Raphael’s method of coping?” Splinter asked. “Donatello, as you have acknowledged, withdraws within himself, but when that is no longer an option, he has struck out at you before.”

Leonardo looked down and frowned.

“To lead, you must always be attentive. You won’t always know what to do, Leonardo, and that is okay. Coming to me is a good start, however you must start trusting in your brothers a little more.”

“We’re getting scared, sensei. Donnie’s lost weight. He moves like a ghost when we do see him.”

“I understand that, my son. I will intervene if I must, but I trust you can figure this out before anything gets much worse.” Splinter exhaled and smiled comfortingly. “Bring him a warm beverage when you talk with him,” Splinter suggested.

“I – thanks, Master Splinter,” Leo said. He stood and bowed. “I’ll update you after I’ve talked to him.”

Splinter nodded, acknowledging Leonardo’s departure.

Leonardo didn’t feel any more comforted than before when he left Splinter’s room. He rubbed his arm unconsciously as he walked and looked around. Kurt had disappeared, leaving the lair utterly empty. Leo had time to figure out how to handle Donatello; Don wouldn’t be awake for a long while yet.


	11. Chapter 11

Raphael perched himself in front of Donatello’s door, though his focus was solely on the two practicing in the center of the lair. Splinter, too, watched from the sidelines, observing silently.

Leonardo instructed, Kurt his pupil. Kurt weakly argued that he didn’t need to learn the art of another sword, but Leo had gently reminded him that Kurt was most likely to be their guest for an incredibly large span of time, possibly indefinitely if Kurt chose to stick around with them. While it was possible to get their hands on a rapier, through rather drastic means, Leonardo insisted that Kurt was better off learning their style with their weapon type. He’d match against their enemies a little better, even if he were to be awkward for a while. A rapier, Leonardo explained, wouldn’t hold up to a katana.

“Besides, what’s the harm in learning something new?” Leonardo asked Kurt.

Kurt conceded and allowed Leonardo to hand Kurt the same katana Raphael had stolen behind Leonardo’s back before. “You mentioned the balance is different in this sword than what you’re used to. How?” Leonardo asked.

Kurt gripped the tsuka in one hand, lightened his hold, and then tossed it to his other hand. “The blade is heavier. The rapier has more weight nearer the hand. The metal is more supple and thin on a rapier and the weight is distributed where the blade and handle connect. The longer grip on this sword makes up for its balance, but that throws the balance off for what I’m used to.”

Leonardo gently tapped the tip of the sword and held it up, leveling out the sword between his fingers and Kurt’s grip. “The handle is called a tsuka on a katana,” he said. Leonardo ran his other hand lightly down the blade until his fingers touched where the blade and tsuka met. “The guard is a tsuba. If memory serves, the weight of a rapier’s tsuba equivalent is what balances the sword, right?”

Kurt nodded. Leonardo stepped back again, retracting his touch on the katana. “Forgive me; I don’t know terminology.”

Leonardo shrugged nonchalantly. “Rapiers are also double bladed?”

“Yes,” Kurt confirmed. He held the sword up before his chest, leveling it before him. “That will be the biggest difference.”

“Your one blade on a katana is called your ha. The blunt side is your mune. You still have a point, your kissaki, but the katana isn’t meant for stabbing like European blades.” Leonardo locked eyes with Kurt. “It’s for slicing.”

Kurt thrashed his tail behind him and lowered the sword beside him again.

“You’re probably used to fancy swordplay?” Leonardo guessed.

“That’s exactly what makes them so fun.”

“This isn’t about fun,” Leonardo said coldly. “It’s about survival. When you parry another ninja’s katana, or whatever weapon they may have, you’ll be stopping a lot of force that an enemy’s rapier probably wouldn’t transfer to you. It’s not about being fancy, Kurt, it’s about keeping yourself alive.” Leonardo tilted his head and looked Kurt up and down. “You’re not a killer, are you?”

Kurt broke eye contact and shuffled his feet. When he looked back to Leonardo, he wore an expression of surprise. “Okay, but I guess I meant that you don’t … you’re not in the mindset of ‘kill or be killed.’”

“No.”

“That’s how we grew up.” Leonardo nodded towards Kurt’s blade. “And by wielding steel, you must be acutely aware of the consequences. If you fight alongside us up there, you’re going to draw blood or you _will die._ ”

“I have been in fights for my life before,” Kurt said. He didn’t mean for his tone to come out so flat, but he did feel as if Leonardo was treating him a little childishly.

Leonardo’s gaze flashed towards his sensei, but he immediately regained his composure.

“I should also remind you that I am already a master swordsman. With a different style of sword, is all.” Kurt reached around with his tail and grabbed the katana by its tsuka. “I fence and fight crowds, either with one or two swords. I’m effective ambidextrously – _and_ with my tail.

“I have faced death, I have conquered death, and I have dealt death by my own hands,” Kurt continued. “My best friend was a killer by trade, Leonardo. I have faced enemies of this earth and from deep space. I have been abandoned and I have been left unscathed as I thought all my friends dead.

“You do not have to worry about my experiences or how I will handle situations. I can keep up with you and your brothers should the need ever arise. Your offer was solely in teaching me the eastern sword, not my emotional state.”

Raphael rolled backwards onto his shell, laughing hysterically. Raph couldn’t handle the expressions that crossed Leonardo’s face as Kurt dished his holier than thou attitude back at him. He enjoyed himself immensely as Kurt knocked him down a peg.

“I – I apologize,” Leonardo said. He couldn’t shake the bewildered look his face eventually adopted. “I meant no disrespect.”

“I know,” Kurt said in a low voice. He tossed the katana back upwards with his tail, snatching it from the air with practiced perfection. “I’m sure you’ve never had to teach anyone the art of the katana before?”

“Eh, no.”

“Well, I hope with our mutual understandings of each other now, I am a good first student.”

Raphael straightened up and rolled his eyes. The drama lasted less and less as the two got to know each other. It disappointed Raph. Raphael enjoyed watching someone throw back at Leonardo.

Leonardo brought a hand up to his chin. “Would you prefer learning with twin katana?”

Kurt couldn’t help the grin that rose on his lips. “Perhaps.”

Leonardo reached up and unsheathed the swords from his back, flipped them, and held out the tsuka for Kurt to take. Confused for only a split second, Kurt transferred his single katana back to his tail and took the two new offered swords. His smile grew wider.

Raphael groaned and rolled his eyes. They’d have two sword wielders walking about, thinking they were better than the rest of them. Raphael’s attention to the two of them waned as Leonardo instructed Kurt on proper forms, lightly guiding him into correct stances with proper angles. As he rolled away to swing his legs back underneath him, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Immediately on the defensive, Raphael whipped around only to see Donatello stirring in his room.

“Guys!” Raphael shouted down to Leonardo and Kurt. The two jerked their heads up to look at him. “Donnie’s up.”

Kurt quickly turned to Leonardo and dropped Leo’s swords by his side. “I know he’s your brother, but seeing as I’m the one that knocked him upside the head … do you mind if I have a word first?” Raphael didn’t seem to have much interest in interacting with Donatello, though he remained sentry outside Donatello’s door.

Leonardo set his mouth in a slight frown. “Just check to make sure he’s alright for me?”

“Natürlich,” Kurt said. Kurt handed the two swords he still carried back to Leonardo. The third had been discarded soon after Leonardo brandished his katana. Free of weapons, Kurt scurried off, climbing up the nearest column to Donatello’s room, twisting near the top to throw himself to the second level’s edge, and effortlessly flipping into a crouch on the ground. Raphael regarded him with one raised brow. As Kurt stood to full height, he gestured toward Donatello’s room. “Do you mind?”

Raphael shrugged. “Nope.” Kurt wasted no time and Raphael leaned forward to visually check in on Leonardo. Leo crossed the lair to reach the fire escape, walking in the most carefree way Raphael had ever seen Leo move.

Partially as a way of retaliation, partially because it was the only move that made sense, Kurt sat himself in the middle of Donatello’s room as he stirred to consciousness. As soon as Donatello locked eyes with Kurt, he froze. “What?” he croaked. His voice was weakened from dehydration and disuse.

“You’re making it a habit of outside forces sending you to bed,” Kurt said.

Don sat quietly for a moment as he woke his brain back up. “What?”

“In the time I have spent with your family, you have slept twice. Once in the explosion that brought me here. And now because I knocked you out with your staff. You did threaten to kill me, so I think it’s fair.”

“I don’t recall,” Donatello said.

“Oh good! So no hard feelings, ja?”

Donatello squinted. “Yes, a little. You just admitted to hitting me upside the head with intentions of taking me out.”

Kurt held up a finger. “Good intentions.”

Donatello snorted and rolled his eyes.

“How is your head?”

“Throbbing,” Donatello said.

Kurt smiled, out of guilt rather than pleasure. “I assume you know the symptoms of a concussion. Do you think you might have one?”

Donatello remained silent for a moment. “Mild at worst.”

“Between you and I, that’s enough concussions for a while. What were you thinking when you came to my room?”

“I don’t know,” Don said weakly.

“Do you remember coming to my room?”

Donatello closed his eyes and frowned. “Yeah.”

Kurt checked over his shoulder to see where Leonardo had ended up. He couldn’t see the turtle from his spot on the floor. “I want to sit down with you and go over your plans before I get wrapped up in them. First, you need to start taking care of yourself.”

“I am!” Donatello argued.

“Not,” Kurt amended for him. “I will not help, and will in fact hinder, if you so much as try to pull off another one of these hyperfixation stunts again, understand? I know hyperfixations are involuntary, but I also know that you’re capable of setting countermeasures against inadvertently neglecting yourself.” Kurt paused. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Donatello said quickly.

“No, you really look awful. Much worse than when I first met you. You need to get back to health before you can gallivant about a junkyard.” Kurt rose to his feet, dusting off his behind. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize about the measures I took. Leonardo would like to talk to you now.”

“Oh, good,” Donatello said. He couldn’t help the rapid sarcasm.

Kurt stopped and frowned in Don’s direction. “He’s not mad at you,” Kurt said softly. “Leo’s worried about you.”

Donatello looked away and breathed in, held it, and breathed out slowly. “It’s almost the same thing with him.”

Kurt’s frown deepened as he left Donatello’s room. Leonardo waited beside Raphael, his arms crossed lightly in front of his carapace. “Go easy on him?” Kurt suggested.

Leo blinked and his eyes widened. “Wha – why would I?”

Raphael sniggered, hiding it too late behind a fist.

Sniffing, Leonardo uncrossed his arms and knocked on the door frame to Donatello’s room. “Donnie?”

“Yeah, come in Leo,” Donatello said from within. His voice, despite the amount of sleep he got, was still tired.

Leonardo stepped inside and scratched his arm, the muscles tensing under his own touch. “Donnie, I … I was supposed to bring you tea.” Leonardo cursed lightly under his breath.

Donatello pushed himself into a sitting position and threw Leo a bewildered expression. “Why?”

“I, uh, it’s hydrating and calming?” Leonardo exhaled, his eyes focusing on nothing off to the side, and he kneeled on the ground in front of Donatello.

“Right,” Donatello said. He leaned forward, distributing his weight onto his arms to hold him up. “Leo, what’s wrong?”

Leo grasped the back of his neck and switched his focus to the floor directly in front of him. “Donnie, you’re really worrying us,” he said. Leo finally lifted his gaze to meet Donatello’s only to have Don drop his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Leo. I don’t mean to.”

“It’s this thing you’ve been working on for months, isn’t it?” Leonardo asked in a quiet and serious voice. He had to remind himself to be gentle.

Donatello grimaced. “Yeah.”

“Don, why won’t you tell us what’s going on? Why is this secret so difficult?”

Donatello’s eyes shot up to Leonardo’s, a fire burning within them. “Because I lost someone, Leo.”

Leonardo’s hands slapped to his knees as he straightened up. The breath felt as if it’d been pushed out of him. “What do you mean?” Leo asked. The words hardly came out as a whisper.

Donatello instantly fell back into a submissive role as he struggled between giving up his secret and sharing the pain and continuing to internalize it. His brothers had nothing to do with Kirby’s disappearance nor Kurt’s appearance. “Do you remember when the Foot was hunting us and we were living with April, before Shredder’s elite guard kicked your shell?” Donatello asked. He sounded defeated. He couldn’t look Leo in the eyes.

“Yeah,” Leonardo said as if to prompt Donatello further.

“April had a tenant living in the basement at the time. When I went to fix the water heater, I ran into him.”

“I don’t remember this tenant.”

“You wouldn’t,” Donatello said. “Even April never brought him up again. I guess she thought he just … disappeared.” Donatello met Leo’s eyes, but they spoke of the wound Donatello had been carrying around with him. Leonardo couldn’t help but set his jaw against his brother’s pain. “His name was Kirby. He was an artist and he got a hold of a crystal that could turn his drawings into real things.” Donatello inhaled deeply. “The drawings usually disappeared, except for this portal. We … we went through the portal and helped this city of people against all the monsters Kirby drew. He didn’t know. Leo, he fought bravely, fixing everything he made wrong, but he got stuck in that dimension.” Donatello drew within himself, hugging himself to ward off the unhealed wounds.

“Donnie … why didn’t you say anything?” Leonardo could see that this event meant a lot to Don, yet he’d never had a clue anything had happened that day.

“Because I thought I could fix it,” Donatello said. “I designed an interdimensional portal and built it, but it didn’t work. I still don’t know what exactly my role was in bringing Kurt here, but I’m sure it wasn’t small. The portal was utterly destroyed in the explosion. Evidence suggests it was the epicenter. So, instead of bringing Kirby back, I accidentally ended up displacing _two_ people.”

Leonardo mulled over his words, trying to best piece together a sentence without further sending Donatello away from him. He recognized that Donatello placed a lot of trust in him by opening up, after the years following their brief stay in April’s apartment, and he didn’t want to betray that. “Donnie,” Leonardo started. He kept his voice as kind as he could muster. “You have heard Kurt’s side of the story, right?”

Donatello nodded. Tears Leonardo hadn’t noticed before flashed in the overhead light of his room.

“You know he doesn’t blame you or think anything was your fault, right?”

“He keeps saying that,” Don said.

“Because he means it, Donnie.” Leonardo ran his tongue over his teeth nervously. “Don, he’s genuine. He’ll let you know if he’s upset.”

Donatello said nothing, but held Leo’s gaze.

“Do you think Kirby could have conjured the portal again, on his side of the dimension?”

“I … I haven’t thought of that,” Don said. Don sounded small. Childish. “Right before the portal closed, he sent me a note. I think it was supposed to be a goodbye. But I can’t accept that!”

Leonardo felt frozen, mortified that he was still going to lose Donatello despite him opening up to him. “Don, sometimes things end. And sometimes you think things end when in reality, they’re new beginnings. Maybe Kirby’s happy in the city you two helped protect.”

“Maybe,” Don repeated. “I still want to give him a choice, though. And now I really have to get Kurt back home.”

“Donnie, this isn’t all your problem. I’m really glad you told me this so now I understand why you’ve done everything you have the past few months, but now we can help. Even if you just keep things between you, me, and Kurt, that’s a lot less burden than when you thought you were alone.”

“Leo?” Donatello asked. The wetness expanded around his eyes and his voice started to show signs of quivering.

“What?”

“Do you mind giving me a moment? I’ll come find you when I’m ready.”

Leonardo nodded and pushed himself to his feet. “That’s fine. We’re going to make things better now, alright?”

Donatello nodded, laid back down, and turned his shell to Leonardo before Leo even turned to leave the room.

Raphael intercepted Leo before he made it too far. “He gonna stop doin’ this shit to himself now?” Raph asked.

Leonardo shook his head. “Probably not. We know better than to assume that.” He turned back to stare through Donatello’s doorway. “Did you hear anything?”

“Nah.” Raphael squinted, staring Leonardo down. “Yer awfully subdued, Leo.” If anything, Raphael expected Leo to come out of Donatello’s room hardly keeping a lid on it.

Leo sucked in a breath and held it, turning to face front again. “Donnie’s been holding on to something for years, Raph. Really makes you wonder how well we actually know him.”

Raph’s eyes darted between Leo and Don’s door. “So if he told ya, that means he’s gonna stop tryin’ ta kill himself, right?”

“That’s a side effect of a symptom,” Kurt said. Both brothers jumped. Raphael knew that Kurt had taken residence at the edge of the walkway, but he didn’t think he’d participate in their conversation.

“It’s what now?” Raph asked.

“You heard me just fine,” Kurt said. “Don’s holding on to a trauma, internalized it, and let it control his life. I think he’s scared, too afraid to ask for help, and he unintentionally neglects himself physically as well as emotionally.”

Raph grunted. “Our whole life’s a big trauma.”

Leonardo elbowed him in the plastron.

Kurt’s expression wasn’t amused. “Just because he’s too afraid to ask for help, doesn’t mean that he can’t receive it. We really should have brought him meals when he didn’t show up. We should monitor his water intake.”

“He ain’t a damn infant,” Raphael scowled.

Kurt stood, his tail thrashing behind him. “However, you are acting like one. Donatello’s focus is not on himself and he needs help grounding himself again.” Kurt stepped in closer, but Leonardo stood in the way for Kurt to really lay into Raph. “Kindness is not difficult.”

Leonardo moved before Raphael had the chance to pounce on Kurt. He body checked him against the wall, off-balancing him long enough for Raphael to think over the rashness of his attack. Kurt immediately dropped into a defensive pose, though he didn’t have to worry about Raphael making it through Leonardo.

Raphael flapped a hand at the both of them. “I know we’re all worried ‘bout Donnie,” Raph said, “but I babyin’ him ain’t gonna make him feel any better.” His eyes bore into Kurt. “I ain’t emotionless, asshole.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Kurt said.

“We’re going to wait for Donnie to leave his room first,” Leonardo said. He flashed his attention between Raph and Kurt. “And then talk to him. Digging into each other isn’t what we need right now.”

Kurt bowed his head. “My apologies.”

Raphael snorted. “Fuckin’ suck up.” He leveled a glare at Leonardo. “He can take care of himself, y’know. He don’t need you protectin’ him.”

“Kurt? Or Don?” Leonardo asked.

Raphael didn’t answer, but turned and stalked off.

Kurt rubbed a palm against his cheek, muttering in German under his breath.

Leonardo turned to Kurt, tapped him on the shoulder, and motioned for him to follow. “We have a lesson to finish.”


	12. Chapter 12

Donatello slowly descended the fire escape to the ground floor of the lair. Kurt and the other three brothers gathered around the televisions, watching a movie someone had found on the pirated cable subscription. Leonardo turned around from his sit on the couch when Donatello neared, his eyes kind and expectant.

“Can I talk to you two” – Donatello motioned to Leonardo and Kurt – “in my lab please?”

Michelangelo blinked, turned around, and frowned at Don. “What? Not me?”

Donatello balked. Leonardo came to his rescue. Leo smiled at Mike as he stood on the cushions. “Why would we disturb you from your movie, Mikey?” he asked.

Raphael snorted from his spot on the padded chair. “Smooth.”

Leonardo’s look to Raphael wasn’t as kind, though Raphael was too enveloped in the movie to register.

Kurt rolled to his feet and stepped around the couch. Leonardo bounced over it. They followed Donatello across the lair to his lab without word.

Donatello spoke first when he closed the lab door behind them. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I was worrying you,” he said as opening. He turned slowly to face them, but didn’t pick up his head.

Leonardo shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “Master Splinter says we need to open up a better communication,” Leo said. “You’ve never committed yourself to a project for so long before. Usually you snap out of it after a couple all-nighters. When this spilled into weeks and months, we noticed, but thought you’d come back any day.”

Donatello smiled without humor. “Well, now you know why.”

Leonardo nodded.

“Now that we know,” Kurt said, “we can help you make better decisions.” He looked between the two brothers as they stood awkwardly.

Donatello ground his jaw and continued to avoid eye contact.

“Donnie, I’m not going to tell you that what you’re doing to yourself is wrong,” Leonardo said. He played with the wrappings around his wrist. “What I didn’t know is that you’re struggling. It’s just … you don’t struggle, Donnie. You always know what to do. You always have a solution. You’re always there for us. We failed you.”

Donatello brought up a hand and placed his thumb between his closed eyes. “The same can be said of you, Leo,” Don said. “You didn’t fail me.” He dropped his hand and picked up his head. Donatello’s eyes swam with emotion, but a strength returned to his expression. One that Kurt hadn’t yet seen. “At least, I don’t blame you.”

Leonardo smiled and relief crossed his shoulders. “So can we agree to communicate better? Because I tell you, I never feel like I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, considering all of the suicidal mission you’ve pulled us into,” Donatello said.

Leonardo looked Donatello up and down. “None that you’ll be going on any time soon.” Donatello remained unperturbed. “But – you will be going on more with us.” That elicited an eye roll.

Donatello pushed past Kurt and Leonardo to an office chair he’d uncovered from the old wreck of his lab. The room had a lot more space and felt more organized to Leonardo, but he didn’t remember Donatello actually cleaning the place out. Leo didn’t know what he did with the twisted remains of his stuff or when he did it, but he did know that Don did it alone. Donatello grabbed a thick notebook, overstuffed with extra papers, and launched himself back over to where Kurt and Leo stood. “So I redid all the calculations and compared my notes from months ago to now. It went a lot smoother without having to stop and research physics that’s more theoretical than applied every time I came to something new.” Don flipped through the notebook, looking for something specific. “Honestly, while I was doing comparisons and realized I’d done all the math and calculations right the first time, I kind of felt like this task is even more impossible than when I started it.”

Don stopped flipping and sharply looked up at Leo. “What I’m trying to do is very different from what the Utroms were trying to do. That isn’t interdimensional travel, that’s particle matter transmission. It’s like broadcasting atoms across galaxies on a quantum level. Faster than light transmission.”

Leonardo helplessly held up two hands. “I don’t really know what that means.”

Donatello quickly frowned, but pressed on anyway. “That’s moving particles across space. An interdimensional gateway is moving particles at different frequencies. In theory, other dimensions are made up in the empty space between atoms, just vibrating at a different frequency than what makes up our dimension. So when you just talk about it, it almost sounds easier to transmit matter from one dimension to another than it is to transmit matter from one point to another – until you consider quantum theory.”

“Donnie, unless this is helping you, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Leonardo insisted.

Donatello turned back to his notebook and resumed flipping pages. He eventually settled on one, but he didn’t show his audience what he’d scribbled upon the paper. “I lost all of the tools I’d theoretically need in small scale experiments in the explosion, which means I can only infer, but connecting two points in space is more feasible than messing with atoms’ frequencies and still making them coherent. Atoms are made up largely of electrical charges, and I just don’t know how to switch them from one frequency to another while not messing with their electrical attractions.” Donatello slowed down, the light leaving his eyes. “I know it can be done. I’ve almost lost track of all the different dimensions we’ve been through, but I just can’t scientifically explain it.”

Donatello looked up from his notebook and sought out Kurt’s eyes, pain clear in his own. “I’m really trying to get you back home, Kurt, but my calculations come up short both times. I don’t know what I did, and the original dimensional portal is less than scrap.” He closed the notebook and tossed it back to where he’d found it. “That doesn’t mean I still won’t try.”

Kurt’s eyes widened as his brain still tried to process the information dump. He’d never seen Donatello so excited, but judging by Leonardo’s reaction, it wasn’t uncommon for Donatello to rant about his discoveries and ideas. “If you don’t think it’s possible, how can you try? I know you want to get your friend back – ” Kurt stopped himself short and slowly looked over to Leonardo.

“He knows,” Donatello said. He almost sounded tired.

“But maybe Kirby’s happy where he’s at,” Leonardo supplied.

Kurt nodded. “Maybe Kirby’s just as happy in his dimension as I am here. I can say from experience that while we may miss our friends and our lives from our home dimension, I could live a happy life here as well.”

“You still don’t really know what we do,” Donatello warned.

Leonardo grimaced. “I may have pushed that lecture a little too far,” Leo admitted.

Donatello’s reaction read as exasperation over anything. “And Leo was right? You wouldn’t lie about this?”

Kurt vigorously shook his head.

Donatello spun the chair and rolled away again. “Still, I want to set this straight.”

Leo and Kurt exchanged glances. Donatello was pulling them through a whole set of emotions. “Just … not at the cost of your health and training anymore, right?”

“I need to start gathering supplies again,” Donatello said. He tapped his fingers against his desk. Leo wasn’t sure if Don had heard him.

“We can do that,” Kurt agreed. He looked over to Leo, prompting him to add on.

“But before you and Kurt go to the junkyard, you need a few meals in you,” Leonardo said with authority. “I’d also feel more comfortable if we got a spar out of you, just in case,” he said with a begging undertone.

Donatello turned and regarded Leo with a weary expression. “Do you know how many times I’ve been to the junkyard and no one’s even known? It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Leonardo insisted. “Even with Kurt to back you up, you need to be able to handle yourself. You look like a damn ghost of yourself, Donnie. I’m not ready to lose you.” Splinter was already setting up the brothers for life without him. That was painful enough. Leonardo wasn’t sure if his brothers had caught on, but it felt glaringly obvious to Leonardo.

Donatello scoffed. “Lose me, Leonardo?” he asked. “Please.”

Leonardo looked at Kurt for support, his mouth open. Kurt offered nothing but a shrug. “I’m not joking, Don.” The seriousness in Leonardo’s voice made Donatello really pay attention. He sounded borderline scared.

“Okay, what is it you’re not telling me now, Leo?” Don asked with tentative fear.

Leonardo grit his teeth. He didn’t want to talk about it, but forcing Donatello to talk about his skeletons made him feel as if he didn’t have a choice. “You haven’t noticed?” Leo questioned quietly. “Master Splinter’s drawing away from us, Donnie. Like … like he’s …” Leonardo’s throat closed up on further words. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything more.

Donatello looked as if he’d been shot. The muscles in his body stiffened and he looked as if he wanted to run away. Leonardo instantly realized his mistake. Too much emotional information for Donatello to handle. He’d walked straight into a fire and he hadn’t a clue as to how to put it out.

“He’d tell us, right?” Leonardo asked.

“Yeah,” Donatello said curtly, “like you said when you first realized what he was doing?”

Kurt bared his teeth in a grimace. “That’s not a great thing to focus on when it’s entirely hypothetical,” he said.

Donatello’s attention shot to Kurt. “It’s not a great thing to focus on even if Splinter came out and told us he was dying,” he said dryly. Leonardo physically flinched against the word. “Non-mutated rats have an average lifespan of a few years. He’s obviously well past that age, seeing as he’s raised us from normal turtle hatchlings to now.” Donatello turned to Leonardo. He calmed as he dissociated from the emotional aspects and attached observations. “And who knows how old Splinter was before he was mutated. He may have been near the end of a normal rat’s life when he came in contact with the ooze. That could be a factor – ”

“Donnie,” Leonardo cut in, “what is this leading to?”

Donatello jolted as if Leonardo had physically slapped him. “I … nowhere, I guess.”

“I’m just nowhere near able to deal with that right now,” Leonardo said through gritted teeth.

Donatello nodded and searched Leo. Before Leonardo could turn to leave, Don spoke again: “I’ve already visited Splinter’s grave once. And watched you all die in front of me. I won’t be incapable of handling this, like you seem to think.”

Leonardo couldn’t help the look of sheer horror cross his face. Getting Donatello to open up and tell his stories wasn’t supposed to be as mortifying as he was making it out to be. “You – what?”

Kurt fell back onto a table, letting it take his entire weight. He felt as if he should leave, but also that he shouldn’t disturb the brothers as they talked through heavy family business, either.

Donatello swallowed. “When we were pulled into our dimensions, um, with the time scepter,” Don reminded Leo. “I got pulled into a future timeline where Splinter was already dead. Mike took me to see him buried in Central Park. You all died in front of me there. I brought you all together again, because you’d all parted ways, and convinced you all to lead a final strike against the Shredder.”

“He’s dead,” Leo whispered.

“Well, he wasn’t in this timeline. I didn’t have to actually live with losing you all, but it was all … real.” The two brothers stared at each other in stunned silence. “I’m sorry you think I’m fragile,” Donatello added quietly after he could no longer stand the nothing, “but I think I’m actually doing a pretty good job of handling things. Heh. It’s been years since any of these incidents and you haven’t known about any of it.”

“You don’t … actually talk to us,” Leonardo realized. “You explain what’s going on or things you’ve worked on, but you don’t actually talk about you.”

Donatello spun in his chair. “And anyone else does, Leo? Michelangelo will talk your ear off, but he’s the only one. Raph wears it on his sleeve, but doesn’t talk. And you internalize everything, but you keep it there to fester. I compartmentalize.”

Leonardo cringed.

“It’s not a dig on you or your leadership,” Donatello said. Don brought up a leg to rest his ankle on his knee and leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair to set a cheek in his palm. “It’s only an observation. We all have places to improve upon.”

“I’ll try harder if you do, Donnie,” Leonardo said softly. “You’re a strong asset to the team and the family, but we’ve relied on you too much without giving anything back. Part of my responsibility as leader is to help carry your problems, too.”

Donatello remained silent, his finger tapping against his cheek and his eyes staring off into space. Leonardo shifted awkwardly. “Well, uh, remember: a few meals and a spar before you go to the junkyard with Kurt, okay? A little self-care first.”

“Yeah, got it, Leo,” Donatello said vacantly.

“You won’t sneak off without me, ja?” Kurt asked.

Donatello said nothing. Leonardo frowned, but didn’t press the point. He had to place some trust in his brother, even though he wanted full control in order to make things better. Feeling awkward in the silence, Leonardo eventually left the lab, leaving Kurt and Donatello behind.

“Ack, I wish I could do something to help you,” Kurt said. “It’s frustrating to be stuck at a mechanic’s level of knowledge when you’re not only an engineer, but a quantum physicist as well?”

“I’m not a quantum physicist,” Donatello said. His voice still sounded far away, disconnected from his real thoughts. “I only gave myself a crash course and applied it to everything I already know.”

“You’re still levels above me,” Kurt pointed out.

“I don’t even know anyone else that can help me with this,” Donatello complained. “LH’s knowledge is more in line with chem and bio. What I’m trying to do is years ahead of what most human scientists can achieve.”

“Don. Drop it,” Kurt suggested. “Leave these notes for a Donatello that’s learned more and move on. You’re still young with so much left to learn. It’s more painful to see you agonize over this than it is to be a permanent resident of your world. I’m sure Kirby would feel the same.”

Donatello met Kurt’s eyes. He was confused, conflicted, but still determined. “Just one more try,” he told Kurt. “I’ll do what Leo wants, so that’ll slow me down a lot, but just let me try this one more time. If I can’t get it to work, I’ll set it aside.”

“Promise?” Kurt asked.

“Promise.”

Kurt beamed, feeling a little sense of accomplishment over their wild conversation. “Fantastisch. Even if you do end up sending me away, I’m very excited to get to meet you without your overwhelming burden.”

Donatello looked from side to side, confused at Kurt’s comment. “You have? Met me?”

Kurt held up a finger. “I suspect that I have not. Anyway, I’m cooking dinner tonight. I’ll let you know when it’s done. I’d like you at the dinner table with us, mein Freund.” Kurt practically danced out of Donatello’s lab, leaving the turtle with no room to counter Kurt’s soft demand.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of plans for this fic, for there to be about three different stories going on simultaneously, all of which only had beginnings and ends with no middles, and I dropped it all for a story of pure friendship. Very not my usual style, but I have no plans on updating it to add convolution. So, for me, this is considered pure fluff.

Michelangelo beamed when Donatello emerged from his lab. Sure, Mike had seen Don during meals again, but he didn’t think anything would improve beyond that. He jumped to his feet, brought his balled hands up to his face, and screamed lightly in his inability to contain himself. Raphael didn’t begrudge him his over the top reaction. Raphael smiled and chuckled as well, reveling as the four brothers came together once more.

Leonardo watched his brothers’ gleeful reactions as a warm feeling rose within him. The family wasn’t complete without Donatello. While they all knew something was off when Donatello didn’t join them, they didn’t remember how good it felt until they were all together again.

Kurt sat beside their sensei. Master Splinter insisted that Leonardo lead the lesson for the day, but he still watched to correct his son’s leadership should he need it. Splinter firmly believed that he had taught his sons everything they needed to know to use as a foundation for the rest of their lives, even though they didn’t believe that Splinter’s wisdom was finite. Together, they could conquer anything, though they still required a gentle reminder every now and again.

“I am proud of them,” Splinter told Kurt. “They honor me well when they solve their own problems.”

Kurt studied the old mutant rat beside him. He moved stiffly, relying heavily on a wooden stick for balance support. His breath labored when he moved, though he managed just fine when he sat still. Splinter’s fur was thin, patchy in places. Kurt understood why Leo thought they were losing their parental figure. Kurt only wished he could relate more strongly. “You have raised fine young adults,” Kurt said.

“Thank you,” Splinter said. His eyes twinkled at Kurt. “You make an old rat very happy with those words.”

Kurt turned his lips up in a smile, but he didn’t feel it. He looked back to the four brothers as Leonardo explained his intentions for the exercise. “Do you really think you’ll be leaving them soon?” Kurt asked. He couldn’t help it.

“I feel my age strongly,” Splinter replied. “Even if my bones were younger, I know that Leonardo can handle the clan on his own now. I will always support my sons until I pass, but I can no longer actively participate in their lives. It takes too much out of me.”

Kurt pulled his knees up in front of him and leaned into them, wrapping his tail and arms around them. He wasn’t sure how he expected to feel when Splinter confirmed their suspicions, but he didn’t think he’d feel as bad as he did.

Splinter reached out and placed a gentle but gnarled hand on Kurt’s shoulder. “They care for you already, Kurt. I know this is not your true world, but I appreciate you for your kindness and attentiveness to my sons while you live here. You have made their world better by your presence.”

Kurt whispered a short, soft prayer in his native tongue, his eyes squeezed shut. An emotional rollercoaster of his own was not on his agenda, yet he’d wandered straight on to one. “Lieber Gott, I can hardly be considered a good man,” Kurt said.

“How is that?” Splinter asked. “From what I have seen, you put others before yourself. You take responsibility for your actions. You are kind even when faced with anger. Those are the marks of a good man.”

Kurt watched the brothers, broken into sparring partners, with Leonardo carefully attending Donatello’s temporarily weakened abilities. He wanted the attention off of himself, for once.

Splinter’s perception of a good man didn’t come from the same place as Kurt’s. Splinter raised warriors, presumably for a purpose. Kurt was raised to be a performer, who eventually defected into vigilante work. Yet, when Splinter laid out his idea of what made a good man, Kurt realized it wasn’t entirely different despite their different beginnings.

Kurt could also consider Logan to be a good man. Well, decent man. Logan had a temper and often killed first before asking questions, but he’d come a long way from the beast he was when he and Kurt joined the X-Men. Logan, like Splinter and the turtles, had a sense of honor. He fought for a reason – or many reasons – and didn’t defect from his very, very narrow moral code.

A part of Kurt wanted to be the perfect man outlined by the teachings laid out in the Christian bible. It was the first sense of morality that he had come across in his life. While Kurt may have looked the part of a demon, he always made sure he didn’t act the part. But Kurt knew that he wasn’t perfect. He was far from it. He was flawed, as most men, and he had his sins.

But even sins didn’t make a person inherently bad.

Maybe the turtles’ way of life made as good of men, or even better men, as Christian men. Maybe Kurt could be considered good, despite his pitfalls.

“Danke, mein Herr,” Kurt said. His tail tightened around his ankle.

“Something can also be said about one not acknowledging his goodness,” Splinter said. He retracted his hand and rested it back on the end of his walking stick. His eyes were never really removed from his sons as he watched them under Leonardo’s tutelage.

“You know, it’s kind of embarrassing that you’re using practice katana,” Donatello muttered. Leonardo had Donatello run through a couple kata with his staff before he engaged him, which immediately put Don into a soured mood. Once he was warmed up, Leo came back with bamboo sticks rather than pulling out his katana for weapons practice.

“Why?” Leonardo asked him. Leo squared up, readying himself for Donatello to begin the bout.

“You really have to ask why?” Don shot back. He lowered himself into a battle position, but didn’t yet strike.

“Need I remind you that you’ve full-on neglected yourself these past couple weeks? Donnie, humor me.”

Donatello frowned, but didn’t argue the point any further. Leonardo wouldn’t back down once he’d made up his mind. It was a trait most of them shared, often causing needless tension. Rather than increase the friction, Donatello decided to ride along with Leonardo’s wishes, and began their spar to finally prove himself to get on with his project.

Donatello began by spinning his bo staff before him, switching to a double handed side spin before long. Leonardo watched, leaning harder on his leg further from Donatello, calculating his attack. Don could open with anything, simply by grabbing the staff more firmly, as he already had all the vectors of attack covered. When Donatello finally did attack, he did so with great speed. Switching to one overhead spin of the staff, Don let the staff fall into his hands and sweeping forward, aiming for a jab to Leo’s middle. Leonardo swung down with both practice katana to connect with the staff’s end, stepping forward and away from the staff’s trajectory.

Donatello didn’t let Leo’s block slow him. He regained control of the staff behind his back and attacked again to Leo’s other side, aiming higher. Leonardo blocked again, but with a little more difficulty. From there, Donatello’s face deepened into intense concentration as he strove to keep Leonardo unbalanced enough to keep him from starting his own attack. Donatello slowly backed him against a wall. The sounds of cracking wood resounded across the lair, drawing in the attention of their other brothers. Raphael and Michelangelo stopped their spar to watch Donatello.

Leonardo had never seen such ferocity from his normally passive brother, even when he was in optimum health. He’d never had such difficulty fending him off. In fact, Leo had never been on the defensive for so long against Donatello’s staff.

When Leonardo’s calves touched stone, marking the end of his allotted space, Leo felt a small spark of panic. Don wasn’t giving him room to squeeze out of it. He wasn’t giving Leo a moment to counter. In one final swing, Donatello rigidly cut himself short from decapitating his brother from the blunt force of his wooden staff. Leonardo stared at him wide-eyed, breathing heavily through his open mouth. Don’s chest heaved for oxygen, his body poured sweat, but he had won against his advantaged brother.

“Holy shit,” Raphael breathed.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Michelangelo said.

Donatello lowered his staff, the end clicking against the stone. He offered Leo a small bow, as much as his tired body allowed.

“Where did that come from?” Leo asked. He couldn’t shake the shock. It may have been for his hands being busy in a battle against their enemies, but Leo didn’t think he’d ever seen Donatello move so fast and hard in a fight before.

“Indignation,” Donatello said, each syllable between breaths.

“Indig-what?” Raphael asked Michelangelo. Michelangelo looked over at Raphael and stifled a laugh.

Leonardo’s face contorted to a mixture of alarm and worry.

Donatello closed his eyes as he worked through a calming breathing exercise, opening them again when he wasn’t gulping air down like it was going out of style. “So, Master Leonardo, am I cleared to go up top?”

As much as Leo wanted to tell Don no, that he obviously wasn’t cut out for a long encounter considering his state after their match, he was certain that Donatello would finish the job if he did say no. Donatello proved himself, at another cost to himself, to move one step closer to his goal. Leo knew that Don needed more time to heal, more protein to rebuild all that he had lost in his weeks of neglect, but that Donatello wouldn’t listen to that logic. Don was goal-oriented and he wasn’t taking Leo’s impositions kindly. Don’s stubbornness almost never surfaced, but it was a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m not your master,” Leonardo said. He transferred the practice katana to one hand and carried them trapped between his arm and shell. “I’m your concerned brother.”

“Lemme guess,” Raphael snickered to Mike, “Leo’s concern is what always gets between him an’ me.”

“Uh, yeah, it kinda is, dude,” Mike said.

Donatello said nothing and didn’t move a muscle. Save for his heavier breathing, one could have mistaken him for a statue.

Leo swallowed and then inhaled deeply. “Okay. You’re cleared. Kurt’s your surface partner.”

Don nodded once and spun his bo staff off the ground to rest under his armpit. “First, I could really use some food.”

Leo’s eyes lit up at Donatello’s confession of self-care. Food was usually Michelangelo’s topic of discussion, and Donatello generally didn’t seem to care whether or not he ate. “Yeah, Donnie. What do you want?”

“Pizza,” Michelangelo staged whispered across the lair.

Donatello turned and locked eyes with Mike, throwing a tired smile at him. “Yeah, sure, pizza. Grease and cheese.”

Raphael raised a brow and looked between the silently conspiring siblings. “Why not make it a family trip?” He looked at Leo expectantly. “Family trip up top, Fearless?”

Leo felt a little dumbstruck at the sudden solidarity of the turtle clan, but had no desire to break it up. “Alright. Family trip, guys.” Leonardo strode over to where Kurt and Splinter sat. “Are you joining us, Kurt?”

Kurt shrugged. “Some fresh air wouldn’t hurt.”

“Never does,” Raphael agreed.

“That’s not exactly true, now,” Michelangelo said.

“Yeah? When’s the air ever hurt you?” Raph asked.

“Not exactly the air, but the other things in it.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Raph said.

“That’s saying something, coming from you,” Michelangelo shot back with a smirk.

Raphael’s eyes widened before they settled into narrow slits. “Why, I oughtta,” he growled before pouncing after Michelangelo, already on the run across the lair.

Leonardo set his practice swords down and watched after the pair. “Donnie, would you prefer grabbing the funds or straightening out those two?”

“We can’t just leave them here?” Don asked.

“That would be a lot less pizza,” Kurt said. He jumped down into the lowest level of the lair, stretching out his legs with exaggerated steps. Donatello thumbed toward Kurt, acknowledging his point.

Leonardo shrugged. “You make an appealing point.”

Donatello smiled, not even bothering with an innocent act. Then, before Leo could debate any further, he darted forward in the direction of their monetary stash, picked up from around the sewers. He easily flipped up to the higher level of the ground floor, running off without sticking the landing. Leaving behind Raph and Mike was Leo’s choice now.

Kurt joined up with Leo, standing beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. “Your family already feels better with Don back,” Kurt said.

“Of course it does,” Leo said. He walked forward, heading toward the lair’s exit. As he walked, he shouted over to Mike and Raph as they jumped over furniture in their twisted game of tag. “Guys, we’ll leave you behind!”

Don emerged from the kitchen, stuffing money in the belt around his waist. Leo, catching sight of him, switched into a faster run as a smile spread across his face. Kurt and Donatello readily took the bait, keeping up with Leo as he sped through the door. Mike and Raph exchanged a glance, decided independently they didn’t wish to be left behind, and took off to join the rest of the clan.

When they disappeared from sight, Splinter smiled to himself, warmed by the camaraderie between the four turtles. He struggled to push himself to his feet and slowly tapped his way back to his room. While moving became more difficult for him every day, the effort was rewarded when he got to see his sons getting along.

The brothers pushed themselves across the rooftops in search of their perfect pizza parlor, whooping and jumping the entire way. Kurt fed off their energies, shouting his excitement as he twisted and flipped from surface to surface, easily keeping pace with their younger bodies. The energy of this run, even despite the end goal being a rewarding dinner rather than mere exercise, was completely different from the one before. Leonardo reveled in the happiness of his brothers. Michelangelo and Raphael let themselves free, pushing each other into exhilarated antics. Even Donatello, while not as flashy as the rest and laboring a little harder for breath, still wore a smile.

When they finally reached their destination, they spread out across the rooftop, each relaxing in his own way. Donatello dumped himself straight onto the ground, working hard to get the proper oxygen in his body. Leo leaned against a stairwell, concerned eyes watching to make sure Don recovered. Raphael could see the lecture building up in Leo’s head, but Leo never let it free.

“How do you guys order pizza?” Kurt asked. He realized, as he and Michelangelo perched on the edge of the building, staring down into a dimly lit alleyway, that the five of them were mutants. Incredibly obvious mutants. While mutants were either frowned upon or outright feared in Kurt’s world, Kurt had a feeling that the reaction would still be much more violent in the turtles’ world.

“First we make the call,” Mike said. “Then we tell them to put it outside. Once they find the cash, of course. It’s like delivery, but, like, to their trash can.”

Kurt nodded slowly. “Appetizing.”

“We used to eat scraps,” Raph grunted. “Whole new world opened up to us after we met April.”

“So what’s everyone want on their pizza?” Mike asked. “Donnie, you got something to write it down on?”

Leo flashed his eyes up to Mike, and then back to Don. Donatello lay flat on his back, though he recovered fairly quickly. Sitting up, Donatello reached into his belt, procured the money, and then an ovular device. “Just my shell cell,” Don said. “Write it on the building with a rock.”

Michelangelo stared at Donatello, silent.

“Uh, Donnie?” Leo prompted.

Donatello slowly switched his attention to Leonardo. “What?”

“A rock?”

“Mike could also just remember the order. Or someone else could order. It’s not difficult.”

Michelangelo sniffed. “Your sarcasm is noted.”

“It wasn’t sarcasm!” Donatello argued. “You … you’ve never written on brick or pavement with a rock before, Mikey?”

“No, it’s okay, you won’t make me look like a fool.”

Donatello looked to Kurt for help. “Back me up here.” Kurt only shrugged.

“He’s right, ya know,” Raphael said in Don’s defense. He shrugged when Michelangelo turned an unconvinced look to him. “Jus’, well, Donnie ain’t lost his mind.”

“Thanks,” Don hissed.

“I’m not writing with a rock,” Michelangelo insisted. “Someone else order.”

Donatello flopped back down on his shell. “I’m going to end up ordering Hot-N-Readies from the Caesars down the block,” he groaned.

Leonardo rolled his eyes and straightened up onto his feet. “Should I order the usual?” he asked. Michelangelo nodded enthusiastically. “We’re going to have a talk about taking some initiative,” Leonardo said before he pulled out his own shell cell and dialed the pizzeria’s number by heart.


	14. Chapter 14

Michelangelo and Raphael sat animatedly at the edge of the couch, controllers thrust before them as they button smashed to their hearts content, fully intending on obliterating the other’s digital character. Kurt watched as he hung upside-down from the second story’s floor, his eyes glued on to the only source of entertainment. He was completely unaware of Donatello’s approaching form until Don used his staff to tap him on his shoulder.

Kurt took one look at Don, released his grip holding him suspended in the air, and managed one tight flip before his feet touched ground. “Was ist los?” he asked amicably. Donatello had his full attention.

Donatello had no idea what Kurt said, but decided that if he was meant to understand, Kurt would have spoken English. Kurt had a complete mastery over the English language, but almost seemed to throw in words from his native language for the sheer fun of it. “Ready to go?” Donatello was, even carrying a duffle bag to help carry their findings back home.

A small smile sprang to Kurt’s face. “Absolutely.” Kurt bounced the one step between the two of them, smacking an arm across Donatello’s shoulders, resting it gently between his neck and his shell. He leaned down so as not to pull Donatello awkwardly off-step. “I want to thank you,” Kurt said in a low whisper.

Donatello didn’t try to break free from Kurt’s grip. He’d been in this position before, and he knew that Kurt wouldn’t give up his hold without a fight. Kurt was more tactile than even Michelangelo. He did, however, guide Kurt toward the door. “Thank me for what?” Don asked.

“For understanding the emotional strain you’ve put upon your brothers and the physical strain you’ve put on yourself. Breaking habits is difficult. But you consciously changing your behaviors is fantastic.”

Donatello couldn’t help the unamused expression cross his face, though Kurt wasn’t in a position to see it. “I could still leave you here.”

“You couldn’t lose me if you tried.” Kurt didn’t say it as a threat, his words full of levity, but Don couldn’t help but shake an ominous vibe.

Leonardo’s head perked up when he noticed the pair’s intended destination. Kurt offered him a small wave with his free hand, but Donatello failed to acknowledge him.

When the group finished eating their pizza on the rooftops the night before, Leo half expected Donatello to run off to the junkyard he’d been denied up until that point, but he didn’t. Don stayed with the group, returned to the lair, and actually turned in for the night with the rest of them. Now that Don presumably was leaving for the junkyard, as the day turned to night, he actually took Kurt with him rather than disappearing off on his own. Leonardo appreciated his brother's efforts, and judging from Kurt’s wave, Kurt was well aware of this.

Donatello quickly steered Kurt toward topside, moving aside the manhole cover between them with practiced ease. Don didn’t try any fancy tricks when climbing out, but Kurt popped out as if he were leaving a toaster. As Donatello pushed the cover back into place, Kurt scanned the surroundings.

“Rooftops?” Kurt guessed.

Don nodded and took off to the nearest fire escape. Kurt, not limited by gravity so long as he had traction, simply scaled the wall nearest him.

Donatello’s presence without his brothers didn’t beg the same level of boisterousness. Don ran and tumbled, using the rooftops as props, but his palpable intentions weren’t to have fun or show off. He simply wished to get from one point to another. Even as Kurt used his surroundings as a playground, working a little harder to release some pent up energy while keeping up with Donatello’s determined pace, he didn’t feel as if he were performing. Don didn’t care what Kurt did, so long as Kurt kept up.

They reached the junkyard before long. Even though it was ringed by a high barbed-wire topped fence, Donatello didn’t slow his pace. He even pulled out his bo staff and held it with the intentions of helping Kurt over. Don moved with such practiced ease, Kurt had the feeling that Donatello was often the turtles’ entry point when impressive jumping feats were required.

Kurt accepted the help, a little surprised at the added momentum Donatello lent him as he launched himself into the air. Midway up, Kurt even added a showy somersault before he smoothly landed on all fours on the other side. He looked over his shoulder in time to see Donatello use his staff to vault himself up and over, easily missing the sharp barbs. Wordlessly, Donatello landed, tucked his bo back away, and continued his incessant run. Kurt followed without bothering to rise back to two feet.

Kurt thought that Raphael had been intense, when Raph, Casey, and Kurt had taken to the rooftops. Raphael moved with power, steaming ahead as some unstoppable force, but he still reserved some attention to having fun. Patrolling was Raphael’s fun. He preferred the journey, especially if the journey came with bumps. Raph didn’t have any true goals, except to amuse himself by bashing heads in. Donatello proved that Raphael’s intensity, while slightly insidious at the root, was insignificant. Donatello only lived for the goal.

Donatello only slowed once they reached towering piles of what could only be described as junk. His eyes searched, bouncing from one object to the next, taking in everything that surrounded him. Kurt didn’t exist, as far as Donatello was concerned. Now that Don was in his happy place, he didn’t need anyone to impede him as he approached the end of his arduous journey.

Kurt cleared his throat, standing tall but discomfited. “How may I be of assistance?”

Donatello paused, tearing his eyes away from the garbage, and looked at Kurt like he’d only just realized he was there. “Oh. Right.” Donatello swung the duffle bag forward on his shoulder and unzipped it, digging out the same notebook he’d flipped through in his lab. “I wrote down things I absolutely need to find again.” He thumbed through the pages to find the list he’d mentioned. “If we don’t find these, I can’t even start.” He stopped, turned the book to face Kurt, and allowed him to take it from his hand.

Kurt studied the page, first trying to decipher Donatello’s messy handwriting. When Kurt looked up again to question certain words, Don had disappeared amidst the heaps. “Really?” Kurt asked himself. He’d lost Don within seconds. Understanding he didn’t have anyone to question until Donatello felt like being found, Kurt tried translating the pen scratches again, coming up with a few words. Most everything Kurt could think certain words out to be, however, didn’t make sense. “Don, I don’t know what any of this is,” Kurt mused. He let his voice carry through the junk, knowing the millions of angles would quickly eat his words before they got too far. If Donatello had heard Kurt, he didn’t seem to care.

Kurt took to wandering the junkyard in varying states of absent thought. He carried Donatello’s notebook under his arm, closed and safe, but no longer as use as reference. Even when Kurt flipped through the other pages to see if he could make something of Don’s mind, he learned nothing. Don’s work was more than another language. A language, Kurt could learn. Donatello understood other cultures through his various sciences that Kurt would never know even existed. And Kurt thought he was clever.

While Kurt meandered, he did rifle through some of the things the humans had discarded. Nothing really struck his interest, but it was something to do as he waited for Donatello. Kurt was incredibly surprised to find that a lot of the refuse looked almost brand new, not old or worn at all. One such thing happened to be a shirt. A little wash, and Kurt was one step closer to not wearing his uniform all the time. Sure, the shirt would turn out to be much too free about his middle, but it would work for lounging about.

Kurt almost smacked into Donatello when he rounded a corner. The turtle blended in with his surroundings well as he crouched and dismantled an unknown chunk of metal before him. As he stuffed it in his duffle back, Don stood up and acknowledged the fuzzy mutant. “Find anything useful?” he asked.

Kurt pointed his chin at the shirt draped across his shoulder. “I apologize, I don’t know the items on your list.”

Donatello remained unperturbed and reached to take his overstuffed notebook back when Kurt offered it. “Well, I found a couple things,” he said. “I got incredibly lucky finding some things the first time I built this. I might have to raid a more technologically advanced lab to get what I need.” Don’s stare squared off to somewhere in the distance, like he had a specific place in mind. “That, uh, can be for another night.”

Kurt looked between Don’s far-off gaze and Donatello with worry. “Wait, you weren’t joking?”

“No,” Donatello said. He was completely serious in tone.

Donatello walked forward, somehow decidedly happy with himself. Kurt remained rooted as he recalculated Donatello’s genius status, scrambling to keep up when it clicked that Don was leaving him behind.

“Lieber Gott,” Kurt said. He forcefully shook his head to clear it.

Donatello checked a wrist watch hidden under wraps around his wrist as he walked, mulled over something for a moment, and then regarded Kurt again. “Would you mind a pit stop to April’s place?” Don asked.

The question sparked an immediate feeling of guilt. The last, and first, time that Kurt met April, he and Mikey used her to get to Leo. “No, not at all.”

“She should still be awake. I should have talked to her before coming here.” Donatello picked up his pace again, trotting towards the fence. As before, he offered his bo staff for Kurt to launch over, and Donatello joined him seconds later. Free of the confines of the junkyard, Donatello poured on the speed again as he hugged his duffle bag close.

Before long, Kurt stood on April’s doorstep once again. Donatello knocked, having observed light from her windows before they’d arrived. It took April a moment, but she came to the door fully dressed.

“Donnie!” April said happily. Her smile didn’t fade when she saw Kurt. “Kurt, you’re still here.”

Kurt nodded. “I may make this city my permanent home, providing enough entertainment.”

April ushered the pair inside, closing the door behind them. “These guys provide enough entertainment, believe me.”

Kurt stopped short when he saw Raphael’s friend, Casey, sitting on April’s couch. He waved from his slumped position against the back cushions, a lazy smile upon his face. “’Ey, what’s up, guys?”

Donatello looked between April and Casey suspiciously, and Kurt didn’t think it was because they each knew who Kurt was. “Is now a bad time, April?” Donatello asked.

April’s eyes lingered on Casey for a moment too long. “No, not at all.” She plastered on a smile. “What can I do for you, Donnie?”

Don took April’s words at face value, breaking into a relieved grin. He pulled the notebook his researched lived in from the duffle bag and handed it over to April. “I’ve been doing some calculations,” Donatello said.

April held the notebook before her with widened eyes. “Don, what is this?”

“The calculations. All of them from my current project, at least.” Don stopped and slowed himself. “Do you remember your uncle Augie’s artifact, the one that brought us to that other bug-filled dimension?”

“Of course.”

“That’s been the least of our other dimension escapades,” Donatello said. He gestured to Kurt. “I don’t know if anyone told you, but Kurt isn’t from our dimension. He’s from some parallel reality. I might have had a hand in bringing him here.”

April perked an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

Donatello swallowed. “Do you remember your tenant in the basement, Kirby?”

April had to think for a moment. “Yeah. He disappeared while you guys were living with me.” She turned to Donatello with a little rage in her voice. “Did you chase him away?”

Donatello held his hands up between them, taking a step back. “Well, no.” Don looked to Kurt for a little grounding as the more sensitive topics came up again. “He got stuck in another dimension, too. He had this crystal that would bring his drawings to life, and he drew a portal once. When I went down there to fix the water heater that time, we went through the portal, but only I came back.”

April wasn’t sure which expression to wear. “Dude, what kind of weird ass side adventures do you all go on while we’re not lookin’?” Casey asked.

Don turned only long enough to say, “Enough.”

Stepping forward again, he tapped the notebook April held. “I was trying to bring Kirby back home when I might have accidentally brought Kurt here. These are all my calculations to build an interdimensional gateway.” Donatello stepped back, holding a hand to his chin. “Do you think we might be able to use your uncle’s artifact?”

April dropped her head, visibly pained. “We destroyed it. Considering the only thing it brought us were problems, and there wasn’t any way back from that jungle realm anymore, we thought it was best that way.” She grit her teeth and barely caught Donatello’s eye. “I’m sorry, Donnie.”

Donatello hardly faltered. “It was worth a try,” he said.

“What are ya guys even talkin’ about?” Casey asked. “What jungle realm? What artifact?”

Donatello and April continued as if Casey hadn’t said anything. “You had some calculations written up for that, too, right?” April asked.

Don nodded against the hand he still had pressed against his chin. “Yeah, I did. But that’s only a piece of the puzzle I’m trying to solve now. I need to first build something that’s capable of achieving what that artifact did when you spun its dials. The calculations before were just for figuring out how to set those dials.”

Don held his hands wide, allowing a smile to spring on his face. “That’s alright. I wouldn’t know how to account for calculating where Kurt came from. That artifact was too chaotic to use and accidentally make a mistake and get stuck somewhere.” His mind slid off in its own plane of existence again, but he continued to narrate out loud. “All things considered, that artifact was probably only connecting a few different dimensions out of many anyway. Augie had a portable one, but the other dials we came across were permanent fixtures.”

“Uh, well, is there anything I can help you with?” April asked.

Donatello blinked, pulled back to reality. “I-I’m not sure, April. This isn’t exactly your field of experience, no offense.”

April didn’t seem to care, her expression melting into one of concern. “I can see if I can pick anything up from your calculations, at least, if you don’t mind leaving them with me.” She hugged the notebook closer to her chest.

Donatello nodded absently. “I appreciate it.” He tapped the duffle bag at his side and turned to Kurt, though his eyes stuck on Casey as he moved. “I’ll let you two back to whatever you were doing. Sorry to drop in on you so late.”

April tried to smile, but it ended up looking more like a grimace. “Yeah, no problem. Take care, Donnie.”

Kurt shut the door behind them, following Donatello as he led them back to the sewers. “Why did she let you in?”

Donatello didn’t seem to understand Kurt’s question. “She’s our friend. She knew your name; you’ve met her before.”

Kurt bit his lip, but didn’t elaborate. He’d allow Donatello’s naivete to stay intact.

The lair looked exactly as it did when Kurt and Don left. Raph and Mike were still plugged into their video games, shouting and grumbling in time with the sound effects. Leonardo, miraculously despite the din, lounged across the stone on the other side of the lair, reading a nondescript novel. He set it down as soon as he saw Donatello. Popping to his feet, he met the pair before the lair door closed. “How did it go?” Leo asked.

Donatello smiled, and from what Kurt could tell, it was genuine. “It’s a start,” Don said. He patted his duffle bag and continued on a path to his lab.

Kurt followed Donatello without a word, wondering if Donatello would bring up his wish to raid a lab for more parts.

“So what’s the next part of your plan?”

Donatello stopped. His positive expression evaporated. “I keep looking for everything I need.” Don met Leo’s eyes. “It’s all I can do.”

Leonardo stared Don down, trying to read between the lines. Donatello was difficult to account for sometimes, especially when it came to his projects.

Donatello nodded once and continued on his way to empty his bag. Kurt stuck around next to Leo, whom watched his brother’s retreating shell.

“I don’t think he can find everything he needs from a junk yard,” Kurt said.

“No,” Leonardo agreed. “He’s being vague on purpose.” Leonardo worked his jaw before relaxing again. “Just promise you’ll help keep him safe?” Leo knew that Don wouldn’t ask Leo for help. Don certainly wouldn’t resort to asking Raph or Mikey to aide him. But he seemed to enjoy Kurt’s company and had no problem accounting for Kurt’s involvement.

“As best as I can,” Kurt said.

Leonardo nodded, but his expression didn’t lighten any as he stared at Donatello’s lab door.

“You do have to respect that he’s trying to open up,” Kurt said. Leonardo switched his scrutiny to Kurt. “We visited April briefly before coming back. He not only asked for her help, he told her the story of why he originally started this project, too.”

“He’s starting to heal,” Leonardo said. His words came out with a breathless tone.

“Maybe, since he’s trying so hard to keep from hyperfocusing on the project again, and he’s starting to tell his story, he’ll finally reach acceptance that he can’t fix everything.”

“That’s a stretch,” Leo said dryly.

Kurt threw Leo a flat look. “It’s growing up, mein Freund.”

“You know that once Don gives up, you’re stuck here, right?” Leonardo reminded Kurt.

“Well aware.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to struggle a little bit for content. Because while I still have a little arc left for Donnie, I kind of don't know what to do with the rest of the characters. I guess that's what I get for only knowing the beginning and the end of this story when I started it? Excuse me while I rack my brain.

“You were supposed to be joking,” Kurt whispered with ferocity.

“I told you that I wasn’t,” Donatello replied easily.

Kurt dropped his forehead into his hand. The two of them crouched on a rooftop to a building adjacent to Donatello’s warehouse of interest. Donatello pulled Kurt out of the lair on the ruse that they were looking for more parts to his gateway, but he didn’t elaborate any further.

“This is a warehouse, anyway,” Donatello explained. “Not a lab. I’d bring my brothers if we were raiding a lab.”

Kurt blinked, flabbergasted by Don’s audacity.

“I’ve been questioning Raph. He’s the one most aware of where the enemy operates. And this one – this warehouse – belongs to one of the worst criminal gangs, so to speak, and is most likely to contain what I need to finish this.”

“Why didn’t you bring Raph? How – what – Don, I don’t know how this works,” Kurt hissed. He couldn’t get the correct sentences to form in his head to properly speak. Don was throwing him straight into the fire without warning him that he had been in a frying pan to begin with.

Donatello tossed Kurt a skeptical look. “Hopefully you don’t have to do anything but be my eyes and ears. I know you can keep up with me without making a sound.”

“In other words, follow your lead?” Kurt guessed. He didn’t feel any better about the situation. “I’d like a little more information to go off.”

Donatello exhaled, a little forcefully to be anything but annoyance. “This is a Foot warehouse, where the Foot stores their extra supplies for one of their main labs, located in their headquarters. Honestly, I have no idea what kind of things they could be experimenting on anymore, so what exactly this warehouse contains is a little of a mystery.” Donatello tapped the edge of the roof, his eyes glued to the exits he could see on the warehouse in question. “But if that’s the information Raph has, I trust him.

“Breaking into the lab, especially with the two of us, is almost along the lines of a suicide mission. The warehouse will have a lot less security and no cameras, thanks to the Foot’s elicit activities.” Donatello leaned forward and pointed. “Our entry point can be up in those windows there. We can stay out of sight until we scope out the place. It’s early morning, so there shouldn’t be a whole lot of people inside, but I can dispatch anyone still inside while you bolt the doors closed. I don’t care how, just make it discreet.”

Kurt wasn’t sure how he felt about Donatello assuming his skillset and willingness to actively participate in his reckless plan, but it wasn’t something he wasn’t willing to argue.

“That should buy me enough time to explore the place. If you could let me know when we start getting into trouble, we can be out within seconds. The Foot will know they’ve been hit, but it won’t read as one of our typical attacks. They’ll just assume another gang with a little finesse hit them for something specific.”

Kurt looked between the warehouse and Donatello’s determined expression. If he backed out, Don would still go alone. It wasn’t Kurt’s choice at all. “On your go,” Kurt said with resignation.

“No more questions?” Donatello asked first.

Kurt shrugged. “I’m a fast learner.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

Donatello crept forward, keeping low as he moved. The only obstacle between them and the warehouse window was a small alleyway, and Donatello had a solution in-hand for that. While Kurt wasn’t exactly sure where Donatello had pulled it out from, though the logical solution was most likely Donatello’s duffle bag, Don had a rope affixed with a hooked metal end, which he swung around easily. When he let go, it swung across the space and easily grabbed on to the window’s ledge. Its hook nestled into metal grating holding in pieces of dirty glass, and allowed Donatello to pull taunt on the rope. Without looking back to check on Kurt, Don jumped from his perch, using the rope to catch him before his feet touched the ground.

While Kurt waited for Donatello to scale the remaining length of rope, he launched himself across the alleyway, landing with only a mild thump on the warehouse’s rooftop. Crawling down the slight slope, Kurt stuck himself to the side of the building beside the window.

Donatello perched himself on the slight ledge, gathering up the length of rope in his hands. He peered inside to make sure the coast was clear and elbowed in the window’s framing, catching it and shifting it past his body before it could hit the ground. Kurt grabbed the framing, almost lost his balance when he miscalculated its wait, and struggled to shunt it on to the top of the building. As Kurt climbed in after Don, it ended up crashing to the alleyway ground despite his efforts.

Donatello turned to Kurt after he heard the glass shatter, but he didn’t appear angered. He almost looked relieved when he saw Kurt waiting for his next move. Donatello moved swiftly, confidently, and silently across the rafters in the warehouse, his eyes darting from one place to the next as he assessed the work he and Kurt would have to do to accomplish Don’s goals.

Kurt swung himself over to the next giant crossbeam with practiced ease, catching himself and tightly rolling back to his feet. Metallic rafters of a warehouse turned out to be Kurt’s favorite kind of playground.

Before long, Donatello grabbed Kurt’s attention with a high _pspsps._ Having caught Kurt’s eye, he signaled his intentions with his hands, no doubt using a language he and his brothers developed over their years of working together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a language Kurt was accustomed to, and most of it didn’t come across intuitively. When Donatello finished gesturing, Kurt could only throw him an uncomfortable shrug. It elicited one giant eye roll from Don.

Trying one more time, Donatello pulled his staff from behind his back and pointed first to Kurt, and then the front of the warehouse. He then wiggled his fingers as if to say _shoo._ Not waiting for Kurt to portray whether or not he understood, Donatello dropped to the floor and out of Kurt’s sight.

For Donatello’s credit, Kurt heard nothing after he hit the floor. Not sure whether or not it was a good sign, but remembering that the brothers were ninja, Kurt quickly swung his way over to the main front door before he said goodbye to his aerial playground.

One person stood in the open doorway, his hooded attention to the outside perimeter rather than inside. Kurt grabbed him from behind, wrapping an arm around his neck and his palm over his mouth. Quickly checking to make sure no one else stood guard outside, Kurt dragged the struggling man inside, holding him until he stilled. Kurt dropped him slowly, stepped over him, and closed the door.

A soft panic built up inside Kurt as he looked around the door to figure out how to hold it in place. Even if he locked it, anyone with a key could open it. The sword on the back of the man Kurt choked out was the only viable option Kurt could see. It took Kurt some time to figure out how to finagle it, but eventually he was certain it would hold.

Kurt quickly scaled the wall again, intent on reaching the garage door-like openers mounted at the top of each large truck door. He jammed the chain to each opener and went on his way.

Donatello made quick work of the remaining workers within the warehouse, knocking them all out with quiet ease before tucking them away. Hoping that Kurt would get the remainder at the edges of the building, Donatello threw himself onto a computer chair and worked the systems to pull up a manifesto of the warehouse’s contents.

Kurt made his way around the perimeter of the warehouse, pouncing through the rafters to make good time – as well as have a good time. He found only one rear exit with one guard, which he dealt with in the exact same way as the first guard.

Kurt found Donatello easily from his perch up in the rafters, and he dropped to the ground behind him with flair. “I believe that’s all. We’re secure,” Kurt said.

Donatello said nothing and typed furiously on the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen before him. Kurt gently placed his hands on the back of Donatello’s chair and leaned forward, quickly skimming over the words that Donatello flashed with lightning speed.

“I think, when you said that this was a gang’s warehouse, you and I had different thoughts,” Kurt commented to fill the silence.

“Well, technically a rival clan, but a lot of their street business is as if they were a gang.”

“I took out ninja.”

Donatello stopped his typing to throw Kurt a sidelong glance over his shoulder. “Duh. Rival clan.”

Kurt snickered.

“Are you surprised you took out ninja?” Don asked absently. His fingers resumed their breakneck speed across the keys. “Leo and Raph seem to think that you have the skill, even though I haven’t seen it firsthand. Am I supposed to think that I shouldn’t trust you?”

Kurt gaped. “That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

“And you proved that you can handle ninja – at least low-level rejects like these.” Donatello paused. “No offense.”

“Why -? Why would that be offensive?”

Donatello shrugged and continued his typing without answering Kurt’s question.

“Okay,” he said after a lengthy stretch of quiet. “I think I’ve found a few things that I can use that are supposed to be in here. It’s not quite the jackpot I was hoping for, but so long as I can find everything, it’ll still be difficult for the two of us to haul out of here.”

Kurt stepped out of Don’s way as he pushed his chair away from the computer and rose to his feet. Grabbing his staff from where he’d leaned it against the computer’s set up, he led the way across the warehouse. Donatello pointed to certain crates for Kurt to break open, and worked on his own. While Don didn’t collect everything they found, he tucked a good portion of it away inside his duffle bag. Eventually, he called the heist quits.

Kurt helped Donatello back up to the window, offering him a hand up as he stuck to the wall. The two of them easily dropped into the alley, trying their best to avoid the shattered glass strewn about the ground, and disappeared down a manhole cover. Mission accomplished. No hitches. Easy as pie.

“Ack, while mildly boring, that was a mission well accomplished,” Kurt said.

“Mildly boring?” Donatello repeated. “Do you want to go home or not?”

“I’m just not accustomed to things going … well.” Kurt noted with surprise.

“Is it because we didn’t get shot at? I can arrange that.”

“E-excuse me?”

“Have Raph lead you on a night out,” Don said. “He’ll remedy your boredom.” Don scoffed. “’Boring’.”

“Actually, a night out with him was pretty boring, too.”

Donatello shook his head, puffing out a couple laughs. “Are you telling me that Raph isn’t crazy enough for you?”

Kurt thought for a moment. “I believe you need some context. I was an acrobat that grew up in a circus. When I moved to Amerika, I befriended a man that can only be described as feral – ”

“Okay, so, Raph,” Donatello said.

Kurt rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, Raph comes close. Remember, I fought Raph before, and I did see his sense leave him, but Logan – Logan didn’t have reason to play nice before the X-Men.”

“I wonder if you really got to meet Raph.”

Kurt waved a hand as if to wave off Donatello’s comment. “Maybe I haven’t connected with Raph well enough,” Kurt wondered.

“Hmm. Have you connected with Raph’s fist?”

“No, but I have with a foot,” Kurt replied smartly. “Ack, that’s beside the point. Life with the X-Men was crazy. Painful. Scary. Tiring. But I never could settle down and try to be normal for very long.”

“You did not just call our family normal.”

Kurt shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what a normal family is like, mein Freund.”

Donatello didn’t know how to reply to that. “I guess I don’t, either,” Don conceded. He stopped to open the lair door, allowing the two of them back inside.

The lair was quiet, Mike and Raph still asleep. Leonardo was up, meditating on a mat he’d laid out in the center of the grand room.

Don broke away from Kurt, heading straight for his lab to drop off the toys he stole off of the Foot. Kurt stood, looking around the lair, trying to figure out what exactly he felt he was missing. He got along with each of the brothers. He even could find company in their Master Splinter. It wasn’t like he lacked for companionship. And if he wanted an audience, all he had to do was grab Mike.

“Something bothering you?” Leo asked. Kurt jumped, not having realized Leonardo had gotten up, let alone crossed the lair. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were that out of it.”

“No, you’re fine. I was just thinking. I guess I’m a little homesick.”

Leonardo gave Kurt an apologetic look. “Donnie’ll have you back in no time.”

“That’s not the point.” Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Well, I – I think I need a moment to clear my head, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Leo said. He stepped aside to give Kurt a clear pathway to his designated bedroom. As Kurt walked away, Leo called out, “If there’s anything I can do, or someone you need to talk to, just find me, okay?”

“Danke, mein Freund,” Kurt said over his shoulder, “but first I need to figure it out.”

Kurt entered his room, stopping in the threshold. The walls were bare, the floor was cold. The room was as minimalistic as they came. It didn’t feel like home, no matter what the turtles did to help comfort him. Kurt didn’t exactly revel in materialistic things, but he didn’t mind decorating his space to match his inner child. Back home, he wasn’t afraid to hang posters of his absolute hero, Errol Flynn. He could pretend he was a swashbuckling pirate, there only to swoop in and save the day to some unwitting damsel in distress. Kurt could configure their training room, dubbed the Danger Room, to any setting he so chose thanks to Shi’ar technology, and even fix the room up with his clawed friend tore it up.

He missed Logan more than he could put sense into it. Over the years, they’d forged an unbreakable bond. They’d fought for each other and their teammates, getting into more trouble than Kurt could remember. Logan wasn’t the only friend he missed, either. Kitty was his partner in crime, always up for dressing up and crossing swords when Kurt had the hankering. Ororo was his wise friend that showed him what a true leader was about. Kurt saw his old friends in his new family, but he only wished that if he were to stay with the turtles, he could get a proper goodbye.

Kurt stepped in front of his bed and dropped to his knees, bringing his hands together to offer a prayer to his God. He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. Even if Donatello did manage to put him back into his world, Kurt couldn’t forget how the turtles accepted him so easily. More easily than most of the X-Men had, even.

What was it that Kurt wanted?


	16. Chapter 16

“Oh, Kurt.” Michelangelo’s sing-song voice rang throughout the lair, loud enough to ring off the stark surfaces around the lair.

Raphael and Leonardo, each sitting on one side of Kurt, turned their heads from the television sets airing a recent but ambiguous action movie, to settle their looks on to Kurt. Kurt twisted into a more alert position, from laying against Leo’s shoulder and propping his leg and tail up on Raph’s lap, to something a little more mobile. Leonardo looked pained, as if he knew Kurt was in for a ride, considering Michelangelo’s tone. Raphael choked back laughter.

“Very funny,” Kurt muttered to them both.

Michelangelo appeared before them, blocking their view of the main television screens. “I have some questions for you,” he said.

“Can they not wait? As you can see, I’m in the middle of a movie.”

Mike turned on his heel to study the movie. “Which one?”

Kurt looked to Raph and Leo for help, coming up blank for the movie’s title. Neither turtle helped, offering shrugs to the mutant in the spotlight.

Michelangelo didn’t wait for an answer, returning his attention to Kurt. “I gotta write down notes about your superhero life,” Michelangelo explained. “Like, in case anyone’s gonna ask questions about you later. Since there’s nothing about you in this world, it’s up to me to get the whole story!”

“Okay, ‘hero’ is a gross overstatement,” Kurt said. “I’m just a mutant.”

Michelangelo pantomimed his sentence back at him, mocking the phrase. “Yeah, so am I. But you’re always the one in a superhero outfit!” He stopped, looking Kurt up and down. “Wait, where’s your superhero outfit?”

Kurt lounged about in street clothes. The set included the shirt he’d found while waiting for Donatello in the junkyard, freshly washed in the washing machine the turtles mysteriously had in their bathroom. April had even lent Kurt one of Casey’s pair of pajama bottoms when he and Don returned to her apartment to fetch the notebook and, Don had hoped, to get some feedback from her. Donatello left disappointed, but Kurt gained a couple articles of clothing.

“Believe it or not, when given a choice, I don’t always wear my X-Men uniform,” Kurt said.

“You wore it for, like, weeks!”

Kurt cleared his throat. “Given the choice.”

Leonardo snickered next to Kurt. Out of the turtles there, Leo was the only one that witnessed firsthand that Kurt didn’t wear the uniform all day and night.

“Yo bozo,” Raphael said. “Ya gonna jus’ stand in front’a the TV all day or ya gonna move yer shell? Some of us are tryin’ ta watch a movie here.”

“That depends,” Michelangelo said. He crossed his arms and then flamboyantly flapped one arm out before him. “Is Kurt gonna talk to me?”

“I’m not going anywhere any time soon,” Kurt said. “You just picked a bad time.”

“Okay, but I just talked to Donnie, and he said that you were bored.”

Kurt’s eyes widened and his muscles stiffened. He hadn’t expected that to backlash at him, especially in the form of a pestering Michelangelo.

Michelangelo grew a sly smile, reading Kurt’s reaction. “And, see, I don’t think a movie is really gonna help you with that.”

Raphael rolled his eyes and buried his head into the hand propped at the elbow on the couch arm rest.

“Donnie said that Raph was too boring for you,” Michelangelo continued in a mocking tone. “He said that your friend from the other realm was more, uh – shit, what was the word he used?”

Raphael grunted. Kurt felt him shift and could feel his eyes on him, but he didn’t look. Of all the things that Kurt could do or say, he did not expect his halfhearted confession to Donatello to come back at him like this.

“What’s your point, Mikey?” Leonardo asked. Leo didn’t sound incredibly interested, but he didn’t sound as annoyed as Raph, either.

“Raphie, how does this make you feel?” Michelangelo asked in the same patronizing manner.

“Ya know, I’m still a li’l ticked that you ain’t moved yer ass from in front of the TVs yet.”

“Don’t you feel a little angry?” Mike asked. “Aren’t you a little bit annoyed that Kurt thinks you’re _boring?_ That Kurt prefers his friends from the other dimension?”

“Okay, listen,” Kurt said. “I’ve known those people for years. We nearly died together more times than I can count.”

“I ain’t a petty attention hog like someone,” Raphael said.

Michelangelo’s chaotic glee grew. “So don’t you want to make memories with your new team? Or maybe tell stories about your old team? Whaddya say, ol’ Kurty?”

Leonardo leaned heavier into the couch. “We’re not going to be able to finish this movie,” he muttered to Kurt.

“Ack, but I was so not invested,” Kurt grumbled. He earned a soft snort from Leo. “And what if I don’t feel like reminiscing?” Kurt asked Michelangelo.

Mike shrugged. “You will eventually.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes, unamused. “Not necessarily. I don’t exactly want to reiterate everything I’ve done in my life simply because I’m a little homesick, ja?”

“So there’s yer answer, Mike. Now beat it,” Raphael said.

Michelangelo waggled a finger. “Well, since I was so rudely not invited to watch this movie, we should do something.” His eyes brightened. “As a family.”

“There it is,” Leo said quietly. “We’re done for.”

Raphael pushed himself to his feet, fighting the abused plushness of the couch cushion beneath him. “Yer a nuisance,” he noted.

Michelangelo eyed Raphael with due wariness, shifting to the balls of his feet in case he needed to make a break for it. “Now you’ve done it, Kurt,” Michelangelo said. The same pestering tone persisted in his voice. “You’ve made Raphie mad.”

“Kurt had nothin’ ta do with it,” Raphael grumbled.

Leonardo groaned softly, rising. “Okay, you have our attention.” More so than the movie had. Leo crossed his arms over his plastron, a twinkle entering his eye. “Family training time. Up top.”

Michelangelo’s expression froze on his face. The impish provocation died and faded away. “Training, Leo?” he squeaked.

Leonardo’s grin grew as Mike’s disappeared. “Yes, training. You’re the one that suggested it. Thank-you for the idea.” Leo turned to Kurt with a friendlier smile than the one Mike received. “Would you mind grabbing Donnie?” Leo asked. “After all, it wouldn’t be a family training without Don.”

Kurt inhaled deeply, coming to terms with the fact that the senseless violence enacted within the movie was no longer their best form of entertainment. Kurt pulled his legs underneath him to crouch on the couch cushion. “Only if I get to smack him for my troubles.” This interruption was Donatello’s creation.

Leonardo waved Kurt off, and Kurt took it as permission to give Donatello a little hell. He vaulted over the couch and ran across to Don’s lab, throwing himself inside without waiting for Donatello to acknowledge his presence. Don, for his part, looked up free from surprise.

“Hmm, well, that was fast,” Don said.

“What kind of fun is stirring the pot when you’re not even around for the results?” Kurt demanded.

“I really wanted Mikey out of my lab,” Donatello said.

“And telling him _I_ was bored is your solution? That isn’t even what I meant!”

Don shrugged, pushed away from the pieces he worked on upon a janky table, and spun his chair to settle before Kurt. “You’re better equipped at handling him.”

Kurt grumbled under his breath, switching to German as he sorted things out. “Congratulations, mein Freund. Your ploy bought you two extra minutes. Leo’s calling a training session outside.”

“Out – up top?” Donatello asked, thought he full well knew the answer. He blew the air out of his lungs. “Damnit. I was on a roll.”

“I have no sympathy.”

Donatello rolled his eyes at Kurt, begrudgingly standing and fetching his bo staff from its leaning position against his work table. “Weren’t you guys in the middle of a movie?” Don asked.

“Yeah,” Kurt replied with narrowed eyes. “We were.”

Kurt exited, Don immediately behind him. Seeing that the other turtles had vacated, Kurt stopped firm in his tracks, unsure of the next step. Don tapped him lightly on the shoulder as he kicked himself into a jog, going for the same exit that Raphael had used when they went topside.

Once again, Kurt was awestruck at the array of machinery. Donatello caught sight of his ogling eyes and flashed a self-satisfied smile. “You like?” he asked.

“Every time I question you, I remember this room. I’ve never seen anything like these. Did you build them all?”

Don nodded and motioned toward the large juiced up truck situated near the warehouse’s front door. “Yup. This here started as an armored truck.”

Leo already sat at the driver’s seat, buckled in and waiting. When Donatello entered, he sat next to Leo. Kurt stepped in, further boggled by the array of technology Donatello had installed into the modified armored truck. Raph clapped him on the back, laughing quietly. “Ya really get a taste of Don’s work in here, huh? It’s almost one of my favorite of his toys.”

“Ready, guys?” Leo asked. He flicked a switch to shut the powered doors to the truck and started it up. The vehicle had a sizable growl, but it ran smooth. Kurt should have known better than to be impressed, yet he still couldn’t help the feeling of awe wash over him.

When Leo stopped the engine again, he’d brought them to an abandoned factory in a quiet part of town. While Kurt felt a little confusion at the setting choice, the other brothers took it in stride.

“So what do we have to look forward to, Leo?” Michelangelo asked. He jumped with both feet out of the truck on to the ground, skipping out of the way for everyone else to exit behind him.

“I tell you what,” Raphael said. He stepped out slowly and took in his surroundings with satisfaction. “I like it already.”

Donatello and Kurt exited simultaneously from different doors. Donatello drank in his environment, almost as approving as Raph. “I bet I can find a few things here.”

“That’s not the point, Donnie,” Leo said. He stepped around Kurt and his brothers to head the group.

“Not the point, sure,” Donatello agreed, “but a welcome side effect.”

“What are we doing here?” Kurt asked.

“Stealth, observation, and speed,” Leonardo answered.

“What? Like hide-and-seek tag?” Mike asked.

“No. Well, kind of.”

“So spill it already,” Raph said. “I’m itchin’ ta look around here.”

“It’s a modification of kick the can,” Leo said.

His brothers leveled various incredulous looks at him. “This is what you decide to do with your internet time?” Don asked.

“Isn’t that a child’s game?” Raph said.

Michelangelo simply laughed. “What’s the catch?”

Leo shrugged. “Look, I’m making things up as I go along. The turtle – uh, mutant – protecting the can has to tag everyone to pull them out of the round. So that the game requires a little bit of skill.”

“Something wrong with our usual games?” Donatello asked.

“It’s really not that different,” Leo admitted.

Kurt settled a hand against his chin. “The people trying to kick the can can easily work together against you,” he pointed out.

“If that’s the case, we’ll adjust as we go,” Leo said. “I’d like to see it first.”

Don’s eyes scanned around them, a different look on his face from before. “So what’s the can we’re kicking, huh?”

“You’re saying you didn’t bring one?” Leo asked.

“Ha.”

“No, there’s some inside,” Leo snickered. “I’ve scoped this place out before.”

No longer interested in banter, Leonardo sprinted forward and launched himself over the rusting fence to warn off invaders. Without checking to see if his brothers followed him, he allowed the deep shadows born from the factor’s insidious sharp angles to swallow him, and he disappeared from sight.

“Well, do you suppose that means Leo’s the first keeper of the can?” Don asked, somehow with a straight face considering his word choice.

“What, we don’t even get to know where Leo’s hidin’ the can?” Raph shouted.

“Would he not have to set it up near him?” Kurt asked Raph.

“Leo’s kinda sneaky – he’s not gonna do what you think he’s gonna do,” Michelangelo warned Kurt.

“Actually, that could put Kurt at a serious advantage instead of a serious disadvantage,” Don pointed out. “Well, better not let him get too far ahead.” Donatello sprung over the fence similarly to Leonardo, landed easily, and allowed the shadows to engulf him.

In the large scope of things, the factory wasn’t very large, and it didn’t hold a whole lot of nooks and crannies, like the turtles’ usual places to haunt. The factory was constructed of two levels, its skeleton largely metallic. The front to the building had disintegrated years ago, judging by the state of the dusty bricks Donatello had to cross to get inside. The first and only real room to the building stood the entire height of the building across the middle and all the way back to the far wall. What made the building interesting were the open rooms stacked side-by-side and on top of each other down the side walls. Large beams of metal, bolted and welded, made up the rooms’ shapes, and not all of the walls still stood. Just enough places for a ninja to hide, but not enough to make the job entirely easy.

Leonardo, surprisingly enough, set himself up near the back of the main room, easily visible from the open front of the building. The can their exercise focused on sat beside him, spray painted bright yellow to stand out from the rest of the grimy oranges, reds, and browns dipped in shadow. Leonardo watched the front of the building, his eyes locking on to Donatello as he clambered over the brick, but he only frowned at him and stayed rooted on the spot. Donatello quickly disappeared from his sight, using the infrastructure to his advantage.

Raphael crossed the threshold of the building next, but Leo saw him for only a split second. As soon as Raph realized that Leonardo hadn’t bothered hiding, he ducked away and hid. Michelangelo and Kurt never entered Leo’s sight.

A game of hide and seek wasn’t the same to a group of ninja and sneaky interdimensional mutant as it would be for a group of children. The turtles often played the game through their various stages of growth, and Leonardo was well aware of the changes they all went through as they played. The objective of this game, however, was not to avoid the seeker, nor was it to stay in one place. Leonardo’s brothers, and Kurt, had to come to Leo to win the game, all without getting noticed and caught.

Leo moved slowly whenever he thought he heard a noise, some whisper or brushing against metal that was not unlike the soft breeze playing at the building’s decaying roof. Noise wasn’t the best thing to use to pinpoint a well-trained ninja, but neither was sight. Eventually, Leonardo had to expand his patrolling circle, splitting his attention between the can and everything surrounding him.

Raphael was the first to reveal himself as he flashed between vertical support beams on the second floor. Leonardo whipped around, hearing Raph’s foot slip on debris, and took his chance. Using a block of twisted metal mounted in the center of the room, Leonardo launched himself upwards and forwards, just enough to grab the bottom of the long metal beam supporting the edge of what was left of the floor. Still using the momentum, Leonardo easily swung to his feet.

Raphael turned, his eyes narrowing when he saw Leo. Staying low, Leonardo shot forward, balancing with practiced ease. He caught up quickly. Raphael jumped to the floor, somersaulting to retain balance. Leonardo followed, but not before pulling a couple shuriken from his belt and launching them in front of Michelangelo, cutting him off from his path to the can.

“Holy shit!” Mike shrieked. He fell backwards to avoid the flying shuriken, his toes coming to a rest inches from their embedded homes in the ground.

Having pushed himself off the beam after Raphael, Leonardo landed mere feet behind him. Bouncing off the ground rather than sticking the landing or fully regaining his balance, he managed to tag the turtle as he began running toward the can. “I believe that’s both of you out,” Leonardo said.

Raphael scowled at Leonardo.

“Hey, you didn’t tag me,” Michelangelo argued.

Leo shrugged. “Close enough.”

“You’re changing the rules!”

“Do you want me to tag you with a shuriken?” Leo asked.

Mike pointed at his brother. “I don’t think that’s quite fair, bro.”

Raphael dusted himself off before plopping down on the ground against the back wall. “Donnie and Kurt’ll show ‘im,” Raph said. “Knock ‘im off that pedestal.”

Leonardo tossed Raph a disgruntled look.

Donatello stepped into sight, much too far for Leonardo to immediately do anything. “So for clarification, physical acknowledgement counts as tagging? You can’t point at me and tell me I’m out, but since you consciously, physically impeded Michelangelo from kicking the can, that’s a tag?”

Leonardo’s expression fell further as he turned to acknowledge Donatello. “Yeah. You know that the purpose of this exercise is to stay hid-”

Leonardo stopped himself mid-word as the sound of toes against can sounded behind him. Kurt stood in the can’s place as it jingled across the building, cheekily smiling at Leo. “I also recall a ninja tactic is distraction,” Kurt said.

Leonardo whipped his attention from Don to Kurt and back again. “You planned this?” he asked.

“No,” Kurt said. “But Don did distract you, nicht wahr?”

Michelangelo fell to the ground in a fit of giggles. Even Raphael looked smug.

Leonardo couldn’t wipe his flabbergasted look. He massaged the back of his neck before he dropped his arms heavily. Defeated.

“New game!” Donatello cried amidst laughs. “Kurt’s the keeper of the can!” He once again disappeared from the shadows in which he spawned. Raphael charged off as well, molding in with his surroundings.

Michelangelo mockingly wiped away a nonexistent tear and flipped to his feet. “Okay, this is a great training session, Leo,” he said. “To see your face, yeah, it was worth it.” Without wasting any more time, he scaled a beam and disappeared into one of the rooms.

Leonardo crossed his arms, at a loss for words.

“Should you not go and hide, mein Freund?” Kurt reminded him. “Or, if you’d like, I can tag you out now.”

“No,” Leo said. He ran off, leaving Kurt to collect the can and replace it in its home. With all of the turtles hidden, Kurt knew that the new game had begun. Him against the family of ninja turtles. While Kurt didn’t think he had much of a chance at staying it for long, he welcomed the opportunity to try. The games, after all, were a large chunk of what Kurt missed from home.


	17. Chapter 17

Leonardo stood before his sensei’s door as emotions swirled inside him. “Master Splinter?” he asked at the door.

“Enter, my son,” the rat rasped from within.

Leo slid the door aside, shutting it behind him. Leonardo usually reserved this time for personal meditation. The lair was quiet, Kurt and his brothers still asleep. However, something occurred to Leonardo and he knew that the best person to bring his concerns to was his father.

“What is troubling you?” Splinter asked. He knelt before a short table in the middle of the room, candles glowing before him.

Leonardo paced forward, lowering himself gracefully to his knees on the other side of the table. He offered a bow before he dumped his thoughts. “Do you remember why I said Donatello was secluding himself?” Leo asked.

Splinter lowered his chin in a minute nod. “I do. Have things gotten better between you?”

Leonardo couldn’t help the happiness cross his face. “Yes, they’re better.”

Splinter eyed him for a moment. “Do you understand why it’s important to listen to your brothers?”

Leo’s expression dropped. “Yes, sensei. And, well, Donnie still hasn’t figured out a real solution. But what if we can help him?” Leo didn’t feel as if they helped their intellectually estranged brother. Donatello helped them all the time, but Leo didn’t think they had anything to offer back to him.

“How do you propose that?”

“What if we can ask the Daimyo for help?”

Splinter stroked the tip of his chin, considering. Donatello wouldn’t let this project drop until he solved it or died. While, over time, he may allow his attention on it to ebb and flow, working on other projects in between, Leo knew he’d always feel some guilt for his perceived part. “I can bring us to his realm,” Splinter confirmed. “I will prepare. Bring Donatello when you are ready.”

Leo’s eyes brightened. “Thank-you, Master Splinter!”

Splinter smiled subtly. “I will need to teach you the ritual,” he said.

“Well, I already know the chant,” Leo said.

“The ritual is more than the chant.” Splinter climbed to his feet, slowly with the utmost care for balance. “Go now and speak to Donatello. I gather that you have not yet brought this up with him.”

Leonardo rose and bowed. As soon as his respects were paid, he left the room. By the time Leo made it to the second level, Donatello was on his way out the door. Don moved bleary eyed, almost dead to the world around him. When his eyes caught sight of Leonardo’s quickly approaching form, he stopped dead in his tracks. “What?” he asked. Don expected bad news.

“Do you know what we haven’t tried?” Leo asked.

Don squinted, trying to power up his still slumbering mind. “What?” he repeated, confusion coating his voice rather than the defensive tone from his first question.

“Splinter is going to take us to the Daimyo and ask him for help.”

“The Daimyo?” Donatello copied. Don didn’t understand what the Daimyo had to do with anything.

Leonardo nodded excitedly. “We can see if he can help you find your friend and send Kurt back home.” Leonardo felt a pang about Kurt leaving. Of all the friends Leo could find, he wondered why he always had to find his closest ones from other realms. Kurt may often test Leo, but Leonardo respected the experience Kurt tried to imbue on Leo after the fact.

Donatello stood dumbstruck. “Mystical means,” he whispered. “I never considered it, knowing that I couldn’t achieve real mystic arts.”

“Well, Master Splinter’s setting it up. We can grab Kurt, leave a note for Raph and Mikey, and hopefully make a quick trip of this.”

“You mean, you want to leave Raph and Mikey behind – alone?” Donatello asked.

“It beats the alternative: bringing them with us,” Leo said.

“Alright,” Don said slowly. “I guess I’ll go pack a bag.” Donatello’s eyes flared with energy, brought on by the prospect of figuring out this puzzle once and for all.

Leonardo nodded, though he didn’t know why Donatello could possibly need to pack a bag. “I’ll wake Kurt and write a note.”

The two brothers parted, hell bent on achieving their tasks and meeting their sensei.

Leonardo knocked on Kurt’s doorframe and called his name. Kurt stirred readily. “Hmm? Under attack?” he mumbled.

“What? No,” Leonardo assured him. “We might have found a way for you to go home.”

“Home?” Kurt muttered into the blankets. His interest immediately waned at the sense of security. “I’m home.”

Leonardo blinked, the words slapping him in a near physical sense. He understood that Kurt was still partially asleep, but the words still had a strong impact. “Uh, so you don’t want to go back to the X-Men?” Leonardo asked. His voice wavered with uncertainty.

Kurt pushed himself up, fully clothed thanks to April and Casey’s help. Holding himself by his elbows, Kurt sent a bleary look into Leonardo’s direction. “Oh. Right.” Kurt swung his legs around, pulling the blanket, and struggled to stand awkwardly as he tried to shake the sheet off of him. “Ja, I’ll be right out.”

Leonardo didn’t bother writing very much. A simple couple words, explaining that the four of the most level headed mutants would be right back, and Leo tacked it to Raphael’s door.

Kurt watched Splinter prepare for his ritual in the middle of the lair. He drew upon a sheer surface, carefully outlining a symbolic mess of lines with a piece of chalk. Leonardo joined them as Splinter finished his drawing, coming up behind his master with arms crossed. When Splinter said that he would prepare, Leonardo didn’t think he’d finish half the work before he showed back up.

Donatello soon joined them, darting across the lair with ease. Leonardo eyed the bag strapped across his body and secured to his side. While it wasn’t uncommon for Donatello to leave the lair without his duffle bag, Leo didn’t know why Don could think he’d need it in the nexus realm.

Splinter’s eyes twinkled when he turned around to face his two sons, and Kurt perched contentedly on the railing beside them. “Donatello,” Splinter said, “it is good to see you back to form. I hope this trip is fruitful.”

Donatello nodded his head forward in a slight bow. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all hung up.” He grimaced. “I hope I didn’t worry you all too much.”

Leonardo smiled widely. “Yeah, not at all,” he lied.

Splinter’s eyes bored into Donatello’s. Leonardo’s smile slipped off his face at his intensity. “Remember, my son, that this is a hopeful ploy. It is not a guarantee.”

“I know, sensei,” Donatello said. “But, uh, thank-you for trying anyway. It means a lot.”

Splinter nodded with satisfaction and regarded Leonardo. “Let us begin,” he said.

Donatello turned to Kurt as Splinter and Leonardo started their chant, expecting a bewildered or likewise uncomfortable expression, but that was not the case. Kurt remained passively perched upon the railing, his face nor body language giving up his thoughts or feelings. Even when the watery doorway formed before student and teacher, Kurt didn’t twitch. Donatello underestimated him. Kurt wasn’t joking when he said he’d been through some things.

Once the door opened to the nexus realm, Splinter stepped through, followed closely by Leonardo. Donatello sucked in a deep breath. “Are you ready?” he asked Kurt.

“For a hopeful ploy? Not really. But an adventure? Always.” He bounced off of the railing to his two feet at full height.

Placated, Donatello stepped through to follow his brother and father. Kurt joined them shortly, and the portal door closed behind them. Don expected a bigger reaction out of Kurt once he stepped through the gateway, but Kurt continued to stay quiet. He looked about him, taking in the scenery of the vast, brown world, but Don swore his expression mimicked Leo’s when he was planning tactics.

Their trip to the Daimyo’s fortress was silent. Donatello didn’t mind, as it allowed his thoughts to wander unhindered. He calculated the best way to bring things up to the Daimyo, as well as the best suggestion to find Kirby.

Leonardo visibly tensed as the group neared the palace grounds. His walking became more rigid, his eyes darting over everything as they passed by. Splinter didn’t offer any words of console, nor did he berate Leonardo for his distress. By the time the group reached the first guard, standing comfortably by the building entrance, Leonardo looked as if he were ready to jump out of his shell.

Splinter offered the guard a small bow. “We have come to talk with the Daimyo,” he said.

The guard looked Splinter up and down before turning his attention to his entourage. “Battle Nexus champion Hamato Splinter?” the guard questioned.

Splinter feigned a small smile. “Yes.”

Kurt’s expression finally grew a little befuddled.

The guard stepped aside. “You may enter. Would you like a host to guide you?”

“No, that is quite alright,” Splinter told him.

Splinter led the way, Leonardo in tow. Even past the guard and welcomed inside, Leo’s tense behavior didn’t end. Kurt watched his behavior with curiosity, but never questioned him.

When the group drew up to the Daimyo’s throne room, Leonardo walked rigidly behind Splinter. He came to a sharp stop with hands crossed firmly over his plastron before the Daimyo. Splinter and Donatello offered a respectful bow to the massive figure sitting on the padded bench. Kurt worriedly looked between the family members to gauge his appropriate reaction and eventually decided on a short bow as the rat and turtle straightened.

“Splinter!” the Daimyo said. “You’re back again, old friend. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Splinter’s expression softened. “Today I am not here for me, but to help guide my sons forward.” He stepped aside to allow Donatello full line of sight to the Daimyo’s sitting form.

Donatello shrank at the attention suddenly shucked on to him, his expression suddenly nervous. “Uh, well, I was hoping that you could help me with something.”

“Anything,” the Daimyo said automatically. “If not for your family, I would no longer have a son.” Leonardo glanced about the room as if on cue.

Donatello smiled out of anxiety. “A few years back, I lost a friend in another dimension.” He’d told his story so much lately, he was beginning to tire from hearing himself say it. “I was trying to bring him back through technical means and, uh, made more of a mess.”

The Daimyo stood, scrutinizing Donatello.

Donatello swallowed. “My friend was an artist with a crystal that made his drawings come to life. He drew a portal once, and when it didn’t go away, we uh, kind of went through the portal. I made it back. He didn’t.”

The Daimyo reached out and grabbed a large wooden staff propped up on a stand beside him. As his fingers wrapped around the wood, a floating man warped out of thin air beside him. “Can you picture your friend in your mind?” the Daimyo asked.

Donatello nodded. “Yeah.”

“Donatello,” Gyoji said, “I know of the man you speak. He was once a resident of Third Earth, like you, but later lived as a resident of Second Earth. He was the creator of monsters on Second Earth and worked hard to rectify his mistake. The man you seek has passed. He lived a full, happy life.”

Donatello stood stock still, his mouth hanging open at Gyoji’s words. They didn’t compute in Donatello’s brain. Gyoji couldn’t have spoken truth. His admission was complete farce.

“Don,” Leonardo said. His voice was low, full of warning. Donatello didn’t appear to have heard him.

“How could you know?” Donatello demanded. Anger immediately rose as the shock subsided. “Kirby never passed through the nexus dimension. How could you know who he is?”

“Kirby helped shape the terrain of Second Earth,” Gyoji explained. “Decedents of his creations fight in the Battle Nexus for the title of champion.”

Donatello stepped forward. “So you’re all-knowing, then? Everything that might have something to do with everyone that comes to the nexus – you know about it?”

Leonardo held out his hands to keep Donatello back, but Don thrust his arms aside. “Not now, Leo,” Don sneered.

“I am not omniscient,” Gyoji said.

“I know your pain for losing someone close,” the Daimyo interceded. “But Gyoji speaks true. As referee for the Battle Nexus, he learns much about many realms.”

Donatello worked his jaw, fire still in his eyes. “And just so happens to know Kirby.”

“Yes,” Gyoji confirmed.

Donatello sharply turned his shell on the two beings to process. He’d worked months on building the portal gateway to find Kirby, only to have it blown up in his face, bringing another innocent into his fray. Then to find out that Donatello had only screwed this up more for someone that was already dead – he couldn’t handle it.

Leonardo spoke to the Daimyo and Gyoji to relieve some of the pressure off his brother. “That isn’t exactly the only problem we have,” Leonardo said. He motioned towards Kurt, whom stood silently and patiently as the drama unfolded about him.

Gyoji swiveled in air to face the Daimyo, consulting him and allowing him the floor again. “Who is this?” the Daimyo asked.

Kurt bowed, more deeply and formally than even Splinter had shown when they’d first entered the room. “I am Kurt Wagner, also known as Nightcrawler. I come from another version of Earth.”

The Daimyo tapped his fingers against his staff. “Do you know from which Earth?”

Kurt balked. “No.”

“Kurt was hoping that you could help him back to his dimension,” Leonardo explained. “Donatello accidentally brought him to our world when he was trying to find Kirby again. His portal, uh, thing exploded and …” Leonardo trailed off, no longer knowing how to describe everything that had transpired.

The Daimyo looked down at Kurt with a steady gaze, saying nothing to Leonardo’s account.

Kurt squirmed after a moment. “I’m a teleporter,” he continued. “I travel through another dimension briefly when I teleport. It’s a place of sulfur and brimstone, but I honestly don’t know much else about it. When I was deposited in this dimension, my connection to that was severed somehow.”

The Daimyo continued to say nothing, staring down at Kurt.

Kurt broke eye contact long enough to send Leonardo a questioning look. He wasn’t sure if he should continue to elaborate. He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work.

“My magic in this world is great,” the Daimyo eventually said. His voice was slow. Grating. “All magics in the nexus pass through me. You have planned well, coming here. However, this is not something I can easily remedy. Will you allow me time to look into this matter?”

“Of course,” Splinter said. “We appreciate your efforts.”

Gyoji turned to the group of mutants again. “I will show you to a guest room.” With a wave of his paddle, he did exactly that, instantaneously bringing them all to a different part of the stronghold.

Donatello immediately walked away to lean against a window, staring out over the vast land of the nexus dimension. “A world between worlds,” he whispered under his breath. “Why didn’t I think of this?”

Leonardo stared after Donatello, but thought better of going after him. “Master Splinter, how long do you think we have to wait?” he asked.

“Not long,” Splinter assured him. “Patience. Tend to other problems in the meantime.”

Leo instantly flashed his attention to Donatello. “I don’t think – he needs a moment to himself, sensei.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that Donatello wasn’t the only one that may need help. Leo looked to Kurt. “How are you holding up?”

Kurt shrugged. “As well as can be expected. I … I miss teleporting. It’s a lot less disorienting when you’re the one in control.”

Leo drew himself closer to keep his voice low. “You’ve been very quiet,” Leonardo observed.

“You’ve been very tense,” Kurt countered. “Why? Am I missing something? Should I not trust these beings?”

“It’s not that,” Leonardo assured him. “I, well, haven’t had the best experiences here, for other reasons. I know we last left the Daimyo on good terms, but I’ve had to watch out for the shadows and it’s, uh, almost ingrained now.”

Kurt processed his words, failing to keep his face neutral. “I don’t know if it’s your reaction to this dimension or a feeling of my own, but I don’t feel comfortable.” His gaze settled on Donatello by the window as he mourned his friend and his belated work for that friend.

“So, what? You want to abandon mission?” Leo asked. When Kurt didn’t reply, Leo added, “It’s your call.”

Kurt bared his teeth in a scowl. Unfocused, he shrunk into a shorter, more stabilized stance. “No,” he said. His eyes still watched Donatello and his voice was unconvincing. Leo read into Kurt’s hesitance, but took his words at face value.

Leonardo followed Kurt’s line of sight to his brother. Donatello had been adamant about having his space, but Leo couldn’t shake Kurt’s distant concern. His own concern. “Should I talk to him?” Leo asked. Kurt said nothing, deepening Leonardo’s worries. Nothing had felt right about this trip, ever since he left Splinter’s room. Leonardo felt apprehension upon setting foot in the realm. Kurt fed off of it. And now Donatello was left more emotionally wounded than before. “I don’t know what to do,” Leo confided. He felt small and childish again. He wanted guidance, but he didn’t want his sensei to know that he was struggling.

“He needs time to process,” Kurt eventually said. “For now.” He patted Leonardo light heartedly on the shoulder, but soon dropped his hand back to its place beside him. “You’ll know when he needs you.”

Leonardo frowned at Kurt’s advice and stepped away to his own area. The group had nothing left to do but wait.

Gyoji broke the silence, appearing in the middle of the room beside Splinter. Donatello didn’t bother looking away from the distant mountains, a stony figure carved from flesh. Kurt swallowed thickly before he regarded the ghostly, floating figure.

“The Daimyo sends his condolences,” Gyoji said. His masked eyes locked on to Kurt’s. “He can find no evidence of the realms you described.”

Kurt felt as if he’d been thrown into an icy pool. “Entschuldigung?” he hoarsely whispered. “No evidence?”

“Outside of the nexus dimension, the Daimyo’s power is limited,” Gyoji explained. “We can find dimensions connected to this pocket, but we are not connected to countless others.”

Kurt tried to swallow again, but had no spit left in his mouth. “I – but it’s real. How can – ” He inhaled sharply to cut off his blathering. He couldn’t think past the buzzing in his ears.

Donatello twitched away from the window. Dark anger poured off him. “Just bring us back home,” he demanded of Gyoji.

“Donatello,” Splinter reprimanded sharply. He didn’t offer anything else by way of chiding, but regarded the floating figure with a small bow. “We are honored by your efforts. Thank-you.”

Leonardo stared between the four parties, discomforted. Feeling spurred on by Splinter’s formalities, he also offered a small bow. “Yes, please send the Daimyo our gratitude.”

Donatello barked a sharp laugh, earning himself a disappointed frown from his brother.

The Gyoji waved his paddle again, and the four mutants were dropped off once again at home.

Don immediately stalked off. Splinter stared after him for a long moment before he cast his eyes downwards, his hands balanced on his walking stick. Leonardo set a hand on his shoulder. “He needs to work it off, but I’ll be there for him when he’s ready,” Leonardo assured him. Leo turned to look at Kurt, whom carefully avoided eye contact. Splinter nodded at Leonardo before slowly walking off.

Despite the multiple shots of rejection, Leonardo approached Kurt once again. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offered.

Kurt grit his teeth. His breath came shallowly. “I just don’t understand,” Kurt hissed.

Leonardo faltered. “I – I’m sorry. That’s more Don’s or April’s turf, actually.”

Kurt inhaled deeply, his breath hitching as he did so. “Yes, I – sorry. I don’t mean the technicalities. Maybe? This is overwhelming.”

Leonardo’s gaze wandered as his ears recognized Michelangelo’s voice motoring off in the distance. He wasn’t sure if he’d tuned it out until that moment, or if he’d recently started up. “Just remember, you always have a home with us,” Leonardo said with a wan smile. “We’ll get through this.”

“It’s not – it’s not that I’m not back to my home dimension,” Kurt explained. “My existence feels invalidated. Like I shouldn’t … exist.” Kurt’s eyes focused on Leonardo’s face. “I told you, I’m happy here or where I came from. But to hear that the – whatever I teleport through and where I lived before cannot be found? It’s … it’s a lot.”

Leonardo shifted awkwardly. “I’m sure it means nothing,” he said.

Kurt set his jaw. “Ja.”


	18. Chapter 18

“Okay, dude,” Michelangelo said. He popped out from some shadowy abyss as Kurt walked by. While Kurt didn’t act surprised, he did mildly wonder if he was as obnoxiously persistent as Michelangelo back at the mansion. “You gotta tell me what’s going on around here. Raph and I wake up, you guys all gone, and a note tacked to Raph’s door. That’s weird enough. But then when you come back, everyone’s in even worse moods than before. Donnie’s locked up tight. Leo won’t talk to me. What is it? What’s going on?”

Kurt shot him the gaudiest smile he could muster. “We had an exercise in patience,” he assured Mike. He hoped that it was enough to get the turtle off his back; he still didn’t feel the most outgoing after the proclamation that his old life was out of reach. For all Kurt knew, his history was a figment of his imagination.

“That sounds awful,” Michelangelo said. “Why?”

Kurt swallowed. A self-invitation. “That’s a very good question.”

“Alright – I know what you need. You need a little Mikey time.”

A plan backfired. Kurt had the self-discipline to keep from outwardly groaning, but the option to do so anyway weighed heavily. “Ja?” Kurt asked. He feigned intrigue. “How is that?”

Michelangelo surreptitiously scouted the lair for any nearby brothers before leaning in close. “You. Me. Superhero team up.”

A part of Kurt – a small part – felt an infinitesimal stroke to his ego. “Okay, that isn’t quite how it works,” Kurt said. “You’re aware?”

“Why not?” Michelangelo demanded. Dead serious. “Like, you’re a superhero. And I’m the Turtle Titan. I’m well known around these parts.”

A muscle twitched in Kurt’s jaw. “I’m … I can hardly be considered a superhero, mein Freund.”

“What? Why? That’s the word you used when you first met me.”

Kurt thought back to the conversation, coming up with only fuzzy recollection. “Is that not the word you used?” He shook his head, physically clearing the thought. “Never mind. You’re aware that you don’t just don a superhero costume and – ”

“Dude, we patrol all the time. But if I’m in costume, then I don’t have to stick to the shadows,” Michelangelo said. “There’s a lot more you can do when you don’t have to worry about the common people beating up on you.”

Kurt drew back as if Michelangelo had burned him, unaware of his reaction until it was done.

“Hey – you alright?” Mike asked him. “What’d I say?”

“Nichts,” Kurt said quickly. “Es war nichts,” he said more quietly through an exhale. Kurt needed to change his frame of mind.

Michelangelo didn’t look convinced. While he didn’t understand the words Kurt spoke exactly, the meaning behind them was plain. “Right. So – you’re gonna reject me, aren’t you?”

Kurt needed something to lift his spirits. His jumpy attitude was testament to that. “No. However, I will have one request while I change to something more hero appropriate. When is the last time you’ve talked to Donatello?”

“Donnie?” Michelangelo debated for a moment, counting with his fingers and mouthing words without saying them out loud. “The trip up top with all of us. What was that? A week?”

“Ask him if he’s okay,” Kurt told him. “Then meet me.”

“I told you – he’s barred in,” Michelangelo told him. “No Mikey – no anyone.”

Kurt shot him a wink. “You’re a ninja, are you not? Talk to him.”

Kurt hadn’t seen evidence of Leonardo trying to make contact with Donatello, even though the turtle could often be caught staring off in the direction of Donatello’s lab. Leonardo’s worry was palpable, yet somehow not contagious to either Mike or Raph. Kurt shadowed Don after the rest of the family went to sleep for the night. Donatello remained unaware of Kurt’s encroachments, living out his meager slice of life when everyone else had disappeared to leave him alone. Kurt wasn’t going to betray his trust of the dark; he only wished to make sure that Donatello didn’t spiral downwards all over again. It was family matter to help Don, even if they didn’t know how to deal with him.

_But you are a part of the family now,_ a voice nagged at Kurt. No one would dispute it any longer, even Splinter. Kurt had been around long enough, had contributed and played nice for them to accept him as one of them. April and Casey stressed the point as well. Their inclusion of Kurt, their refusal to ever balk at his appearance, the fact that everyone had a different relationship with him – it made it hard to think he could leave this little slice of underground heaven. Kurt could barge in on Donatello and make it out of the encounter alive. But Kurt was feeling a little too beaten to help heal someone else.

Michelangelo crossed his arms defiantly. “And why should _I_ be the one to talk to him?” Mike demanded. “I don’t know what’s going on. Are you gonna clue me in here? Splinter’s shut himself off, you’re hardly any better – which is _weird_ – and Leo’s almost as twitchy as you. I’m a little hurt you guys left Raph and me behind, but you can’t include me now and not tell me why Donnie’s back to mad scientist mode. He was getting better.”

“I can’t tell you everything,” Kurt said. “It’s not my place.” He itched at his elbow, rubbing it softly and methodically. “But you don’t need to know specifics to be a good brother, oder? Out of everyone here, you’re the best one at bringing everyone together without accidentally pushing anyone away.”

Michelangelo beamed, tickled. “Okay, well, what’s your story?”

Kurt’s mouth pulled into a small frown. “Really? I’m licking a wound of self-pity. Leonardo tried to find my way back to the X-Men. My world. I was told my world may not exist.”

“You’re not helping the Donnie’s a mad scientist narrative,” Mike pointed out flatly.

Kurt leaned over to wrap an arm around Michelangelo’s shoulder in a small half-hug. “No, it means Donatello may not have had anything to do with my appearance here,” Kurt whispered. “Nimrod may have banished me to this world with no way back. And – ack – to be shunted to the side so completely….”

Michelangelo looked up at Kurt with swimming eyes. “We didn’t throw you out. You’re family.”

That confirmation again. “I know,” Kurt said with a grin. He squeezed Mike closer. His shoulder pressed against the edge of Michelangelo’s carapace, but he ignored the pressure pain for the sake of closeness.

“You’re like the soft, cuddly brother I never knew I didn’t have,” Michelangelo continued. He stepped away, only to pull Kurt into a complete hug. His cheek pressed into Kurt’s collarbone as his arms wrapped around his chest. Comforting.

“Ah, well, Donatello didn’t just get invalidated – he got emotionally shot,” Kurt said through the force of Michelangelo’s lung-collapsing hug. He patted the top of Mike’s carapace with one hand, not even sure if he could feel the gesture.

Michelangelo released his death grip, but didn’t pull out of the hug. The turtle thrived off of attention, and Kurt was almost always willing to give it. They fed off of each other, building constructively off the other’s energy. “Leo do it to him?” Mike guessed. “Leo doesn’t understand emotions. Really doesn’t understand Donnie has them.”

“No,” Kurt said. “I told you that Leo tried helping.”

“Okay,” Michelangelo said. He released Kurt and presented himself to him as if he were starting a public speech. “Leo’s idea of helping doesn’t usually help emotions. Got it? He’s smart – not like Donnie smart – but he says and does some stupid things when he’s trying to make things better.”

“Leo didn’t do anything!” Kurt insisted. Even though Leonardo was the reason anyone had thought to go to the nexus and ask for help, Leo wasn’t the inherent cause of Donatello’s hurt. Or Kurt’s.

“Fine. So I’m s’posed to sneak into Donnie’s lab and what? Tell him to stop pouting? C’mon, I’m not an annoying toad. I need a game plan here.”

“You’re smarter than that,” Kurt said. “I know you can feel out the emotional map of a room and plan accordingly. On the spot.”

Michelangelo brightened at Kurt’s stroke to his ego despite himself. “I like you. Even though you’re definitely manipulating me to do what you want. But I’ll do it. For Donnie.”

Kurt nodded once. “For Donnie.” He didn’t feel called out for the manipulation. Mike spoke truth. Kurt just couldn’t bear seeing Donatello slip back into the dark by himself. Michelangelo truly was the best guide anyone could ask for to bring him back. And if Michelangelo failed, Kurt would have to try himself. But familiar definitely seemed the better option.

Michelangelo had to admit that Kurt’s careful little pushes and well placed compliments yielded some fantastic results – in Kurt’s favor. He still felt like a pawn in Kurt’s hands, but with a lot less angst than when he was Leonardo’s solider. Mike wanted to learn the secrets, having felt Kurt’s subtle inducements more than once, but Mike still hadn’t figured out exactly how Kurt pulled it all off. How was Kurt better than Michelangelo in the art of persuasion?

Set on a mission, Michelangelo approached Donatello’s lab, quieting his footsteps as he neared. He tried the door first, knowing full well that Donatello had somehow locked it from the inside, despite the fact that the knob didn’t even have a lock. As expected, while the knob spun, the door didn’t push open.

No matter. Donatello’s lab wasn’t actually a part of the lair. It was a piece he’d brought in from the outside world, building it up to be his own slice of nerd heaven. And, with its dual identity, it meant that there was more than one way to enter his “fortress of solitude”.

Carefully, intensely aware of how he set his body, Michelangelo climbed to the top of Donatello’s lab until he found an access port. Donatello had it closed up, but Mike didn’t remember him welding it shut. Without making a noise, Michelangelo peeled away the access’s stopper, stymied only briefly about its flushness to the remainder of the roof, and swung it open.

Michelangelo poked his head inside to figure out a clear path, and promptly dropped himself inside. Donatello turned abruptly as Mike’s toes touched the floor to his lab, throwing his chair out from underneath him.

“How did you - ?” Donatello’s eyes tracked up, catching on the hole in his roof. “Mikey – what the hell?”

Mike pointed accusingly at Donatello. “You are avoiding us way too much, bro.”

“So you break into my lab?”

“It was Kurt’s idea,” Mike said quickly. Best cover his shell.

Donatello did not appear amused. “He’s as bad as you. No, worse. He’s persistent _and_ annoying.”

“Whoa. Low blow, dude. So, like, what’s going on? Kurt said that you guys went on a ‘mission of patience’. Or something like that.”

Somehow, Donatello’s expression dropped further.

Mike held up his hands defensively even though Don didn’t make a move. “Okay, okay! Don’t tell me. Whatever. I’ll annoy _one_ of you enough to tell me eventually. You know you can’t keep a secret from me.”

Donatello collected his chair and sat back down. At least he was beginning to settle, Michelangelo noted. “I’m not trying to keep secrets. You guys just … you don’t care.”

“What?” Michelangelo barked. “We don’t care? Dude, that’s a load of shit.” Taking a leaf from Raphael’s book. “If I didn’t care, would I have figured out how to break into your lab to talk to you?”

“Because Kurt told you to.”

Michelangelo cringed. “Well, it was a good idea,” Mike conceded.

“Uh-huh.”

Mike shrugged. Whatever got Don talking best.

“We went somewhere that should have solved all our problems,” Donatello explained. He carefully left out the exact place to avoid Michelangelo growing too large of a head. “I found out that the work I’ve done for the past few months was pointless. The person I was trying to save is dead.”

Mike’s eyes grew. “Why didn’t you ask us for help? Saving is kinda what we do, right?”

Donatello shook his head softly. “No, this was different. This person wasn’t on Earth. Not our Earth, anyway.”

Michelangelo mulled over Don’s words for a moment. “You were building, like, a transmat device? Like the Utroms?”

“Sort of,” Don said. He didn’t bother to elaborate.

“That’s whack.” He jolted to a ramrod straight position, his eyes lighting up. “Oh! That makes what Kurt said make so much more sense!” Donatello sent him an expression to prompt him on. “Yeah, yeah! Kurt said that he found out that you probably had nothing to do with him dropping in on us. Said Nimrod banished him here” – Michelangelo chuckled his way through the words following ‘Nimrod’ – “with no way back. He’s kinda mopey, too. I guess he thinks the world he came from doesn’t exist or something, all a sudden.”

Donatello looked pained. “He doesn’t expect to go back anymore, does he?” Don knew that it wasn’t meant to wound him, but he still felt like Kurt didn’t trust him to figure it out. And, despite everything Kurt had been saying directly to Don, he wasn’t the happiest with the turtles.

“I dunno. But what you’re telling me is that you’re cutting yourself off again because Kurt’s going all bad-mood Leo on us and you found out a friend died without telling you?”

“Gee, you say it so eloquently,” Donatello muttered.

Michelangelo shrugged. “People die, Donnie. Like, yeah, it sucks, but it happens. Did any of us even know this friend of yours?” Mike knew that Donatello ran into a lot more people than he let on with his excursions up top, but something told him that that wasn’t exactly the case in figuring out who Donatello was mourning.

“No.”

“I get it that you’re sad, but it’s not your fault. Do we need to bring Leo in here to tell you that you’re not in charge of everything? That some things are out of your control? Ya gotta come to terms and move on. You know, we’re all here to help you do that.”

Donatello did not expect a pep talk from Michelangelo. Nor did he expect it to stir something up from within him.

“Okay, I don’t want to sound dense or anything about your friend. I’m sorry your friend is gone. I really am, Donnie. But that doesn’t mean you gotta hurt yourself over it.” Mike snapped his fingers, coming to another realization. “So none of this was Leo’s fault?”

Don blinked, almost placated by Michelangelo’s attempted kind words, and then completely sidelined by his question. “What? Why would it be?”

“Well, ‘cuz Leo’s been acting all guilty since you all went away. I just thought it’d be something he’d do.”

Donatello groaned despite himself. “I’ll talk to him.”

Mike brightened. “So you’re good then? I can go and superhero team up with Kurt now?”

“You – you came in here to … Mikey!” Donatello couldn’t fathom it. Michelangelo didn’t come in to figure things out of his own accord? Mike only wanted something from someone else, so he did the dirty deed to benefit from it? He wasn’t kidding when he said that barging in on Donatello’s safe space was Kurt’s idea. “Go,” Donatello said. He felt a resignation with the situation. “Get out of here. Play hero like an idiot.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Michelangelo said. He squeezed past Donatello toward the door. While he had to move aside an entire table to open it, Mike was dead set on leaving the room properly than back the way he came. “I don’t think it’s stupid, trying to help people. And no – I didn’t do this just because Kurt told me to. I … I miss you, Donnie. Things aren’t the same around the lair when you’re cooped up in here.”

“Yeah, sure, noted,” Don grunted.

“I’m being serious.” Michelangelo didn’t allow Donatello any more time to discredit him. He disappeared, presumably off to meet Kurt to play superhero.

Leonardo visibly brightened when he witness Michelangelo dart out of Don’s lab. He immediately intercepted him, much to Mike’s chagrin. “Bro, you’re cramping my style.”

“Donnie,” Leo demanded. “He talked to you?”

“Well, more like I talked to him,” Michelangelo said.

Leonardo didn’t doubt it. “What is he doing?”

“Uh, sitting in his chair. In his lab. Doing Donnie stuff.”

“Is he okay?”

Michelangelo didn’t say anything for a while. “No, really. What happened when you guys were gone? Kurt told me to check in on him to answer that same question. Why wouldn’t Donnie be okay?”

Leonardo set his jaw.

“Okay, so Kurt said that he’s like perma-stuck here because your adventure said so. And Donnie said that he found out someone died. That was some depressing place, huh?”

Leo stepped back, his arms cross over his plastron. “You should drop it, Mikey.”

Mikey balled his fists. “That just makes it so much more interesting. Did you know that Donnie was trying to build a transmat device, like the Utroms? What’s going on?”

Leonardo couldn’t hide the flash of surprise across his face. Donatello told him about the interdimensional portal?

“So you did know! What the fuck? Why does everyone keep secrets from me? You realize all these secrets are breaking us apart? Donnie’s been locked up in his lab for months. You're scrambling around like you’re trying to make things better but you’re kinda just reacting a little too late. I mean, Raph and I are still … _us._ But you two are definitely holding us at arm’s length. Even that game up top, the kick the can game? You were pretty distant and everything was supposed to be your call. That was supposed to be your time to shine, bro.” Michelangelo crossed his arms petulantly, his fists still clenched tight.

“You pretty much figured it all out,” Leonardo told him. Michelangelo said nothing, staring his brother down. “Really.”

“No, I didn’t,” Michelangelo argued indignantly. “Like, what’s the motive? Why can’t we just talk about this shit over dinner? What’s wrong with dinners? Do we need new recipes? C’mon, be honest.”

Leo had no idea why those two ideas were connected. He opened his mouth, starting to form words, and then thinking better of it.

“Wow.” Michelangelo drew out the vowel. “It’s my cooking, isn’t it?”

“What? Mikey – no!”

“Well, whatever it is, I want my bros back. Raph’s probably all happy that you’re off his shell, Leo, but I’m sick of it.” He uncrossed his arms and pushed past Leonardo. “I’m heading up top with Kurt. We’re gonna have some fun.” He turned to walk backwards, eyes boring into Leonardo’s. “You know what that is anymore, Leo? Fun?”

“Mikey,” Leonardo begged. But Michelangelo had turned his shell on him again, disappearing.

Leonardo grumbled to himself, studying the floor of the lair. Of all turtles to turn on him, Michelangelo was the last one he expected spite from. But his outburst did put things into perspective for Leo. He needed to grab control of the situation before it further spiraled out of control.

Gathering what remained of his wits about him, Leonardo strode over to Don’s lab and knocked on the door.

“Oh, for the sake of science,” Donatello griped from within. “Leo?” Don only guessed, but it was a rather educated guess. Raphael was leaving them all a wide berth.

Leonardo let himself in, shutting the door behind him. “I wanted to give you time to process everything, after the nexus,” Leonardo explained. He looked Donatello up and down, studying him and his current state. Miraculously, Donatello didn’t look terrible.

“You mean stew,” Donatello corrected.

“No. Don, you can’t possibly go through this alone.”

Donatello pushed away from his computer monitor, spinning the chair and allowing its wheels to carry him a couple feet away from the table upon which it sat. “I’m not trying to go through this alone.”

“Really?” Leonardo deadpanned. “You do know that literally locking yourself into a room and refusing to come out to socialize is pretty close to the definition of alone. And avoidant.”

“I just needed time to think, Leo.”

“And I gave it to you.” Leonardo cleared his throat, realizing a little too late that his words came out too quick and forceful. As Leo looked away, his eyes caught on the duffle bag Donatello had brought to the nexus realm. Still unpacked, judging by the way it was tossed haphazardly on a lab table. Donatello hadn’t touched it in the nexus, which wasn’t entirely surprising, considering no adventure had truly happened.

Leonardo recalculated and sat down on the ground, his shell to the door. “What’s the plan, Donnie?” Leo asked. He didn’t think he needed to elaborate.

Donatello swallowed, though his mouth was too dry for it to have much effect. “I feel like giving up on the project,” he whispered. “I’ve … _never_ … thought that before.”

Leonardo nodded, but Donatello was too busy staring at his hands to notice. “I can’t say I don’t understand.”

“But I already failed Kirby,” Donatello continued, almost breathlessly.

“Donnie – ”

“Mikey told me that Kurt’s taking things pretty hard. I knew he was lying, Leo. I can’t fail him.”

“You’re not failing anyone,” Leonardo insisted. “You didn’t fail Kirby, you’re not failing Kurt. Take a break. There’s nothing wrong with putting a little distance between yourself and this project. Just come back out with us. Mikey’s starting to think that we hate eating meals together. He actually monologued to me.”

Donatello blinked, finally making eye contact with Leo. “He lectured me,” Donatello confessed.

Leo cringed. “If anything was ever a sign, I think Michelangelo’s adamant irritation is one.”

“Before I store this away” – Donatello nodded to the lump of mechanical pieces strewn about a tabletop, presumably his interdimensional portal – “I need to talk to Kurt. But yeah, I want to come back to you guys.” Don smiled crookedly.

Leonardo, feeling a small sense of accomplishment, smiled back.


	19. Chapter 19

Considering Kurt’s decidedly dejected mood, as he was still a little more withdrawn than normal even when he came back from the surface with Mike, he took Donatello’s admission of defeat over the interdimensional portal in stride. “Okay,” Kurt said. His simple, nonchalant answer, accompanied by an easy shrug, did nothing to ease Donatello’s anxieties. Don didn’t know how to handle it. Kurt had to have been hiding some insidious emotion deep inside, careful to nurture it until a point where he could bring it back up again to best maim Don further.

Yet, as the time carried on, Kurt exhibited no signs of contempt. He bounced back to his jovial self, spending time with each brother and their master. Leonardo enjoyed his spars, both with swords as Kurt learned eastern weaponry, and hand-to-hand despite the fact that Leo could hardly keep up with Kurt’s empty-handed speed. Raphael typically pulled Kurt for adventures up top with him, with or without Casey. Michelangelo made it a life goal to trick Kurt into one of his carefully crafted manipulations and failed each time. And while Donatello was certain that Kurt hated him, he allowed him to stick around and help when he got around to building a new project.

Kurt got a slice of the turtles’ good life, in a moment of time without a war raging topside. But that didn’t stop Leonardo from pulling Kurt and his three brothers on patrols in the late evenings.

Much to Raphael’s bewilderment, Kurt thoroughly enjoyed the patrols Leo led up top, despite the quiet structure Leo instilled in them. Whereas Kurt was more outgoing and animated on his trips to the rooftops with Raph, he spent more energy on perfecting his form and speed when the turtles moved. As time went on, he was increasingly bolder in his pursuits across the cityscape, throwing himself daringly in ways even the turtles didn’t feel like trying.

Things were still a game to Kurt. Even though the turtles had to stop periodically to stop a petty crime, Kurt hadn’t gotten a taste of their true purpose.

An unofficial peace treaty that wasn’t meant to last.

Raphael pulled the training run to a stop with a mere bark to Leonardo as he headed the pack. Raph crouched at the edge of the rooftop, staring downward into the darkened alley below. Kurt was the first to accompany Raph at his perch. Michelangelo’s persistent chatter ceased, and the group of five watched on in silence.

As the story unfolded below, Kurt quickly realized that it wasn’t much different than anything else he and Raph had put a stop to before, when they were on their own. A slight man, inebriated to a point Kurt almost pitied rather than envied, was in the middle of a great deal of pain, accosted by someone not much larger than himself, but a lot more alert. No one could hear the words the men shouted, but they didn’t need to. The drunken man couldn’t make a move for himself, for the alert man physically abused him at every turn. Sometimes a slap, sometimes a push, sometimes a kick. Two other men, heavier and more muscled in build, stood at the mouth of the alley, looking on without helping either man.

Leonardo leveled a disbelieving look at Raphael. “You really find every little minor assault and blow them out of proportion, don’t you?”

“We stopped someone from stealin’ a toaster before, Leo,” Raph shot back. “This guy’s gonna lose his head if we don’t do nothin’.”

Donatello already crept toward the fire escape, moving just out of Leonardo’s line of sight. Michelangelo watched his shell disappear from sight before he turned back to regard Leo. “Guys, we should get down there,” Mike pressed.

Leonardo huffed, turned, and noticed a distinct lack of Don. “Really?” Leonardo seethed. Raphael chuckled, somehow making such an innocent behavior dark.

As Don neared the end of the fire escape to a point where he could safely jump down, Kurt raced down the sheer brick wall, landing neatly in time with Don. The other three realized belatedly that they were left in proverbial dust.

“What the – ?” the assaulting man demanded. He dropped the drunken man, allowing him to fall in a tangle of exhausted limbs. His eyes locked onto Kurt, whom had landed much closer than Don. Don continued to hang back in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity. The remaining brothers crowded on the fire escape.

The closest man stepped over the intoxicated lump, putting himself within easy striking range of Kurt. Kurt didn’t move. “Who the fuck are you? What’re you doin’ here?”

“You – you want to start a conversation?” Kurt asked in complete surprise. Kurt swore he heard a concealed snicker from one of the turtles lying in wait, but it was too faint to be sure. “What kind of idiot are you?” Before the man could open his mouth to reply, Kurt skipped forward and landed a solid blow to his jaw, quickly catching him with a foot as he spun toward the ground. The man rolled, still conscious, but he made no move to get up.

“Aw, it’s too easy,” Raph complained quietly from the dark.

The five pairs of eyes belonging to the vigilante group scanned over to the other two muscle men further down the alley. Their broad shoulders barely fit inside their matching leather jackets. “Oh, right,” Raph grunted. “Well, Kurt’s not gettin’ all the glory,” he muttered to Leonardo.

Raphael jumped beside Donatello, toeing the edge of the deepened shadow, eyes locked on the jacketed men as they stalked toward Kurt. Their knuckles glittered as they flexed. They were ready for resistance.

“Oh, hi!” Kurt chirped. “See, I noticed that our friend needed a little help.” Kurt toed the unconscious drunkard, eliciting a small groan. Satisfied, Kurt took a step forward in front of the crumpled man, laying his tail across his neck.

One man stopped halfway between Kurt and the mouth of the alley while the other man continued forward. His expression didn’t change from its hard, stony look.

“Oh, I see, you’re wondering if he’s okay.” Kurt swept his tail away from the man and took another step forward, squaring out his stance. “He is. And we’ll take care of it from here.”

“He talks too much,” Leonardo grumbled to Michelangelo, realizing the irony of his audience all too well. Any other brother.

The closer man threw a punch at Kurt, which Kurt deftly avoided with seemingly no effort. “No need to resort to violence!” Kurt said. “Despite my appearance, I am a trustworthy man.” The man punched again, straightforward with no style. Kurt wrapped his hands around his forearm before he could pull back, kneed him in the stomach, and sent a backhanded fist into the man’s nose as he crumpled inward. The man staggered backwards, but he wasn’t out for the count. Both men launched forward simultaneously, and that’s when Donatello and Raphael stepped in. Within moments, the turtles had them on the ground, in worse shape than the intoxicated quarry.

Leonardo materialized beside them, frowning. “Was that worth it, Raph?” he asked.

Raphael motioned to the beaten drunk. “He’s alive, innit he?”

Leonardo rolled his eyes. “Call the authorities. Get this taken care of.”

“Uh, guys.” Donatello broke their circle and skillfully slapped a cell phone from the hand of Kurt’s first victim, somehow managing to avoid hitting any of his fingers. The electronic smacked hard against the pavement, landing on a corner and rolling to a stop facedown feet away from the man. “Pay attention.”

Mike squatted in front of the man and patted him on the head. “Aw, it’s okay. We’ll make sure you’re all taken care of.”

The man scoffed. “I wa’n’t callin’ da cops.”

Donatello’s eyes shot to the cell phone, too broken to glean any information off of it. “We need to get out of here.”

Raph toed the man he took down and turned to Kurt. “These look like the mobsters we’ve been takin’ out lately?”

Kurt squinted. “How should I know? They don’t have a dress code or anything.”

“Guys – Leo.” Don changed tactics. “We need to go. I think we’re about to be in trouble.”

Trusting Don enough to question him, Leonardo nodded. “Move out,” he instructed. Catching Michelangelo’s attention with a soft toe, he led him back toward the fire escape. Kurt and Donatello followed easily, but Raphael stood and studied the alley with distrustful eyes.

Leonardo’ soft curse, carrying down the hard walls of the alley, pulled Raphael out of his musing trance. He abruptly looked upwards and tore his way up the fire escape to accompany his brothers on the rooftop. They were no longer alone. Raph fell quiet and still when he reached the top, instantly humbled.

“My guess is that the mob called in the Foot’s help after the increased pressure,” Donatello explained softly to Leonardo.

“That’s kinda an obvious one,” Michelangelo muttered. “The dude literally told us he called someone – and now the Foot are here.”

“But why the Foot?”

Leonardo shushed them, his eyes locked on the unyielding front before them. He sensed Kurt’s growing apprehension as the scope of the turtles’ problems processed.

“Don, stay as close as you can to Kurt,” Leo whispered. “Raph, keep your eye on them. Mike and I will watch each other’s backs.”

Kurt sniffed. He didn’t need babysitting, no matter what the odds were against them. Of course, Kurt usually had his teleporting power to save him at the last second. And his enemies didn’t usually have quite as many sharp blades as these masked men.

Leonardo spared no room for Kurt’s feelings, more intent on keeping him alive than saving face. The turtles slid into battle positions around him, and the time for words was over.

The hoard of Foot converged, slamming against a well prepared wall of armed turtle. The brothers didn’t give Kurt a chance to assess, but threw themselves headfirst into battle by keeping their bodies between Kurt and the Foot. Kurt saw their ferocity firsthand, understood the real extent of their abilities, and slowly realized why Leonardo and Donatello had been so adamant about Kurt realizing their purpose.

Kurt knew Raphael’s game. He’d done enough surface work, messing with the growing activities of the mob, to know the type of work Raph did. Yet, somehow, Raph was more terrifying against the Foot than he ever was against the mobsters. He moved quickly, taking the easiest route in taking out his enemies. While the blades of his sai weren’t sharpened, they continuously pierced skin through cloth, covering his forearms and plastron in blood. Raphael preferred his fists, guarded by the prongs of the sai, but he wasn’t afraid to balance and kick. He methodically shoved bodies away from his family, a horrible force of flesh and bone.

Leonardo wasn’t a very surprising character in battle, either. He parried blades, but didn’t play with the enemy. Whenever the opportunity struck, he’d blast his way past the enemies’ defenses and cut them down. He was refined and cool, carefully weighing every option by the millisecond as the terrain around him changed. As he’d announced, he watched Michelangelo’s back carefully, cutting his way closer every chance he got.

Mike’s finesse surprised Kurt. The turtle was fast, reactionary, and deadly with his nunchaku. A natural athlete, Mike switched his tactics swiftly with a natural grace that hadn’t to do much with training at all. Unlike his brothers, he wore a gleeful expression as he danced around the ninja, dealing death without a second thought. He made sound effects as he moved, almost as if he was unaware of his mouth moving in tune with his body. Michelangelo was as at home in battle as he was in front of a television screen, but he was more engrossed in his own world than he was in keeping an eye on Leonardo, not that Leo particularly needed his backup.

True to Leo’s command, Donatello remained close to Kurt. At least, as close as he could wielding a six foot stick of solid wood. Don’s moves were carefully controlled as he slapped blades aside and batted bodies away, almost as if it was no effort at all. Even with his shell turned to Kurt, Kurt knew that a large portion of Don’s focus was on him, but it didn’t slow him down. Don easily kept up with his brothers, using the years of practice flawlessly with his technical mind.

A little late to the party, Kurt joined the fray, careful to stay out of Donatello’s reach. While Kurt hadn’t ever thought to use his feet as much as the turtles did in their style of fighting, he incorporated it well with his superior balance. Within moments of joining the turtles in the battle, Kurt had a couple of Foot swords in hand, and he intended on using them well. Leonardo had instilled Kurt with a respect toward the katana, and while Kurt wasn’t as handy with them as he would a rapier, he used it as a tool to stay alive.

Donatello switched tactics when he realized Kurt had joined, reducing his range of motion to keep out of Kurt’s way, but also to keep from allowing Foot past their defensive line. Whenever Kurt became bogged down by too many opponents at once, unused to the style of fight, Donatello would step in with his bo and sweep them aside. Raphael periodically stepped in to bail out his brother, but the equilibrium was hardly unbalanced for Kurt’s interference. It felt to Kurt as if the turtles were allowing Kurt to think he was helpful, where really they didn’t need him at all.

The battle ended when all the Foot lay broken or dead. All in all, it didn’t last long. The turtles never struggled, even though Kurt found it difficult to keep afloat amongst all the gore and bodies. And when no more enemies revealed themselves, they simply left, heading almost straight for home. No word. No banter. No hesitation. Their deed was done. Their patrol, over.

Donatello spoke first, long after they’d entered the sewers and woven their way through the dark labyrinth. “Why do you think the mob employed the Foot as bodyguards?” he asked.

“You can’t be sure that’s actually what happened,” Raph reasoned.

“Why not?” Mike asked seriously. “I’ve noticed the mobsters were getting out of hand before Kurt dropped in. If you and him have been taking them out, I could see why they’re looking for help.”

“It’s all been stupid stuff, right Kurt?” Raph asked. “Little things, jus’ like that guy in the alley. What’s the point?”

“Something we can look into,” Leonardo said. “It’s … worrisome. But you should probably keep the vigilantism to a minimum until we do figure it out.”

Raph grumbled, but didn’t argue.

Raphael stalked off to the bathrooms to shower upon entering the lair. Leonardo tended his swords, applying careful attention to the blades. Michelangelo immediately commandeered the entertainment system. Donatello stayed back with Kurt, comfortable enough to bring up a burning question with his brothers dispersed.

“I know you’re probably tired of me talking about this to you, but what did you think?” Don asked. He wordlessly guided Kurt toward his lab. “That’s what we deal with on the daily sometimes. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you what being a ninja is about.”

“It’s not what I was expecting,” Kurt admitted.

“Still want to be one of us until I get you home?”

Kurt grinned. “You’re not the worst beasts I’ve come across, mein Freund. And you – you weren’t out for blood. You protected yourself and me when I came up short, nothing more. Nothing less.”

Donatello perked a brow. “And Raph? Leo?”

“Raphael reminds me a lot of my closest friend. He doesn’t hold back, either. And Leo has definitely told me his responsibilities wielding the blade.” Kurt held up the two katana he’d swiped off of fallen Foot ninja. “I’m still holding these, am I not?”

Donatello swallowed. “I’m just … making sure. I can put my full energies back on the – ”

“You will not,” Kurt said forcefully. “As promised, you will not dedicate your time and energy to that portal anymore. This is my home.”

Kurt’s tone flicked a switch in Donatello’s brain. His emphasis and finality about Don’s well-being wasn’t born from a man who hated him or blamed him for his current situation. While Don refused to permanently hang up the project, he didn’t feel as awful about restoring his wits. He needed to take Kurt’s words at face value. He could stop doubting himself so hard.

“You should probably go talk to Leo about how to take care of those,” Don told him. While the Foot’s quality of weapon was far from great, Kurt wasn’t going to abandon his stolen goods in his stubbornness to fit in with the brothers. With Kurt reminding Don about his promise to drop the project if he failed again, the Hamato clan would have to work on getting Kurt the tools he needed. He was, after all, part of the family. And that’s the way it would stay.


End file.
